


Momento Mori

by you_can_talk_to_me



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drama, Eventual Romance, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2019-07-10 16:52:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 156,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15953540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/you_can_talk_to_me/pseuds/you_can_talk_to_me
Summary: The night Lord Voldemort failed to kill Harry Potter, he left behind a daughter. Bethany Riddle grows up in an orphanage, ignorant of the wizarding world and the legacy left by her father. She defies all the expectations placed before her, but will she be doomed to repeat history?





	1. Prologue

**Momento Mori**

**Prologue**

 

On the morning of November 1st, 1981, Lucius Malfoy dressed in steel grey dress robes, doing his best to remain silent while his wife slept soundly. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong indeed.

 

He reached for his cane, his gaze resting on Narcissa. In spite of everything, Lucius allowed himself a small smile. She was as radiant with messy hair and dark circles under her eyes as she was when she was dressed for a Ministry gala. She had stayed up nearly the entire night with him, waiting for the return of the Dark Lord, only going to their bed when he urged her after she had nodded off at nearly four in the morning. He loved her all the more for it.

 

Lucius left the room quietly. He walked past the nursery, relieved that there were no cries from a baby.

 

“Dobby!” His tone was sharp, yet his voice was hushed.

 

The house elf appeared with a crack. Dobby’s tiny hands gripped the grimy pillowcase he used to cover himself. “Yes, Master Lucius?” The cowering creature asked.

 

“Go sit in the nursery. My wife has had a long night, and she deserves her rest. I don’t want anything to disturb her until she wakes of her own accord. Is that clear?”

 

“Crystal clear, master!” squeaked Dobby before running as fast as his short legs could carry him.

 

“And for Merlin’s sake, be quiet!” hissed Lucius before stalking away.

 

Lucius left for work after that, appearing in one of the various hearths within the Minsitry. He instantly balked at the sight that greeted him. A kind of frenzied excitement had swept throughout the Ministry. He watched as two witches embraced one another before rushing off to hug others. Gerard Cattermole, a man Lucius had never seen as much as smile, was skipping through the Atrium, humming to himself.

 

A pair of arms seized Lucius’s torso from behind. “What the—“

 

“Lucius!” Alastair Fortescue exclaimed, squeezing the blond man tightly. “Have you heard the good news?”

 

“What?”

 

“You-Know-Who is dead! Gone!” Alastair beamed. Icy lead began to fill Lucius’s stomach. “He went to the Potters last night and when he tried to kill their son, he failed! Dead!” Alastair released him, pushing his bronze spectacles up his nose.

 

Lucius felt ill but plastered a semblance of a smile across his face. “How are the Potters, then? I assume they’re rather shaken by the encounter—“

 

Alastair’s grin deflated. “Well, uh, no. They’re dead, Lucius.”

 

Lucius’s mind instantly went to Severus. He’d scoffed at his young friend’s supposed love for the Mudblood woman, but knew that the man was probably in great pain at the moment. “That’s...a shame,” he found himself saying.

 

“Yes,” agreed Alastair, nodding, “they were so young, with a full life ahead of them. Twenty one! Can you believe it? I hadn’t even met my Thelma when I was twenty one... still. At least their son’s alive!” The man’s spirits had brightened once again. “They’re calling him a hero! Little Harry Potter!” With that, he raced off, likely to accost another unsuspecting soul.

 

Lucius felt a bout of nausea sweep over him. Before he could process it, he was running to the nearest lavatory where he found himself kneeling over a toilet, retching and covered with sweat. The Dark Lord was gone. Dead.

 

It was impossible. How many times had he assured Lucius that he would not meet his demise anytime soon? The Dark Lord was the most powerful wizard to ever live. He had accomplished great feats, he had bested nearly ever witch or wizard that had dared attempt to block his path to greatness. How could he have possibly fallen at the hands of a child, a baby? It made no sense.

 

The door swung open, and a pair of shiny black shoes walked across the tile floors. “How’re you feeling, Lucius?” It was Kingsley Shacklebolt, without a doubt.

 

Lucius attempted to calm his breathing. “Not terribly well, to tell you the truth,” he stated, with strength that he didn’t feel. “I think I have caught a virus. Either that or one of the damn house elves gave me food poisoning.” He let out a watery laugh.

 

“That’s too bad,” Shacklebolt said, not sounding sympathetic to other man’s plight at all, “because I have been ordered to take you into custody by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.”

 

Lucius closed his eyes. He knew this day would come if his master fell, where he would be asked about his involvement with the Dark Lord, but he hadn’t anticipated on it blindsiding him like this.

 

Still, he thought of his beautiful wife, his beloved son, and the baby girl curled up in his crib beside him. _Lie. It is what you must do. It is what he would wish for you to do. Lie._

 

“Of course. Allow me a moment to collect myself, if you please.”

 

Shacklebolt greeted him with silence and Lucius took his time, wiping his mouth, fixing his hair, and inhaling deeply. He stepped out of his stall, looking as dignified as he had when he left his house that morning. He plastered the infamous Malfoy smirk upon his face, and said “Lead the way.”

* * *

 

 

Severus Snape, looking as tired as Lucius had that morning, stepped out of the Malfoy fireplace. He Vanished the ash off his robes before he set off.

 

He hated this. He hated Dumbledore. He hated the Dark Lord.

 

This was a betrayal of the most sinister kind. How dare Dumbledore ask him to do this? He wished he had never allowed the headmaster access into his thoughts. Lucius and Narcissa were two of his dearest friends. They had never mocked him based on his arse of a Muggle father, always invited him for Christmas dinners, and had even named him godfather for their only child, their precious Draco. And how was Severus repaying them for all their kindnesses? By coming into their home and stealing a child from them.

 

He swallowed his disdain. They would be distraught; Narcissa most of all. He knew that while she adored Draco and loved him with everything she had, she had always craved a daughter. And though she hadn’t given birth to that child, she treated the second baby as her own.

 

The nursery door was cracked open. Severus approached it softly. A house elf was sitting in a wicker rocking chair, asleep. The babies were inside the crib, sleeping peacefully.

 

Severus reached down, picking up the baby adorned in the pale pink onesie. Her hair was dark, and had began to grow longer down her neck. She opened her eyes, staring at him. Confused, she looked around the room. “Dada?”

 

Draco stirred, his tiny fist moving closer to his mouth. “No,” said Severus quietly. “I’m sorry.”

 

And he was. Even though her parents were dead, this child had a chance to grow up as the Malfoy’s second child. She could grow up with all the riches Severus had been denied as the son of a deadbeat Muggle, be educated in the ways of the wizarding world. She would have a sense of family, even though it wouldn’t be biological.

 

But where Severus was taking her, it was unlikely she would find that.

 

Before the child could speak again, Severus gathered her in his arms and fled the nursery. He raced down the stairs, reaching for the Floo and exclaiming “Spinner’s End!”

* * *

 

 

Three hours later, Severus found himself at the gates of Wool’s Orphanage in London. The place looked dirty, rundown. He could hardly believe that the master he had served for nearly four years now had grown up in a dilapidated dump like this. The Dark Lord carried an air of sophistication and eloquence about him; this place was even worse than the home Severus had grown up in.

 

The baby shifted in his arms again, crying out. Severus swallowed the lump in his throat. How could Dumbledore possibly think this was a good idea? First he was sending Lily’s son off to live with that awful snit, Petunia, and now this.

 

It was unfair.

 

Severus approached the door, knocking once. Nothing happened. Severus glanced down at the small child, her hair now short. Not for the first time since taking the child, he entertained the thought of Apparating back to Malfoy Manor and returning the child to where she belonged.

 

But the door opened, revealing a middle aged woman with dark brown hair and a warm smile. “Hello! I’m Dana White, what brings you ‘round here?” She asked with a strong Cockney accent.

 

Severus gulped. “I’m afraid this young girl lost her parents last night.”

 

Her eyes widened as she stared at the child in his arms. “Oh! Poor dear!”

 

“Yes,” Severus said as she squirmed in his arms.

 

“Daco! Dada!”

 

“Why don’t you come on, Mr.—uh, what was your name again, love?”

 

“Snape,” he replied, not remembering if he had told her his name or not.

 

“Yes, of course. Silly me, I’m rubbish with names—“

 

The baby wailed as Severus brought her into the orphanage that would serve as her home for the next eleven years.

* * *

 

 

Lucius had been interrogated for nearly twelve hours. He evaded each question, feigned ignorance, and lied through his teeth. If the Dark Lord had been present, he would have been proud.

 

When Lucius returned home, he was exhausted. He wanted nothing more than to hold Draco and Bethany tightly, to kiss his Narcissa, and to wash himself clean of this dreadful, abysmal day.

 

But as soon as he stepped out of the fireplace, Lucius felt Narcissa’s arms wrap around him, burying her face into his chest as sobs wracked her petite body. “Narcissa—“

 

“She’s gone!” She wailed. “Lucius, she’s gone! Somebody took Bethany!”

 

Lucius’s dismay at the loss of his master was nothing compared to this. Without a second thought, the head of the house of Malfoy broke down into tears, pulling his wife closer while he wept into her hair.

* * *

 

 

“Have you no shame?” demanded Severus.

 

Albus Dumbledore smiled at him from the other side of his large desk. “Ah, Severus. Please, have a seat.”

 

“No!” The other man snapped. “Do you have any idea how *miserable* day been? And it’s all because of you!” He spat.

 

Dumbledore’s smile had vanished. His blue eyes, which almost always held that mirthful twinkle, were solemn. “Severus,” he began, “I did what I could do to preserve the life of Lily Evans and her family.” At the mere mention of her name, Severus flinched. “But ultimately they put their trust in the wrong person. There was nothing I could do.”

 

Severus, operating on 36 hours without sleep and pure, undiluted grief, blinked rapidly as tears gathered in his eyes. “I’m not talking about that,” he said, unable to muster the vitriol he was feeling. “I’m talking about the child.”

 

“Voldemort’s daughter?” Dumbledore spoke plainly, as if the notion itself weren’t one of the greatest anomalies in recent wizarding history.

 

Severus cleated his throat. “She’s more than just that, you know. She’s a child. An innocent child.”

 

“That she is,” the headmaster agreed, leaning forwards in his chair. “Which makes it all the more necessary to remove her from her father’s supporters.”

 

“Supporters who love her!” Severus burst out. Had he not been so outraged, he would have felt embarrassed by the tear that escaped his eye just then. “Do they believe the bloodlines must be kept pure? Yes. Do they believe Muggles are scum? Yes. But they were all she knew.”

 

“Severus,” Dumbledore said, treading lightly, “surely, you must expect that if Bethany Riddle were to be kept in their care, she would undoubtedly be raised to be her father, to conquer over the wizarding world?”

 

“And how do you know that by forcing her to grow up in the same orphanage as him and without a family, you haven’t damned her into becoming him?”

 

Dumbledore studied a grain in his wooden desk. “There are many couples in this world who seek out to adopt children.”

 

Severus scoffed. “Magical children are never adopted by Muggles. The Dark Lord lived in that orphanage until he was of age. What makes you think she will be any different?” Before Dumbledore could interject, he continued on with, “History will end up repeating itself. An alienated, unloved child will come to Hogwarts eleven years from now and it will be your fault.”

 

Dumbledore looked up, his grey eyebrow arched. “If you truly believe that, then why did you take her there?”

 

For that, Severus had no answer. Why had he done it? He could say it had been for Lily Evans, but the girl he had known would have never wanted such a dastardly thing on any child, nor what Bethany Riddle connected to her legacy in any way. It hadn’t been for the Dark Lord, it certainly hadn’t been for Lucius or Narcissa— Merlin only knew what hell they were going through right now.

 

His gaze flickered to the old man, whose wrinkled hands were folded on top of his desk. Trust, Severus decided, was his only reason. He hoped that this act had allowed him to prove himself and to show that he was ready to redeem himself for his past crimes.

 

“Severus?”

 

“What?”

 

“May I have it?”

 

Severus withdrew a single lock of brown hair from his pocket. “Excellent!” Dumbledore drew his wand of elder, poised overtop it.

 

“What are you doing with it?”

 

The older man focused his gaze on the former Death Eater. “A spell that will conceal her identity from anyone outside this room. Nobody shall recognize her, save for you and I, until she learns of her parentage.”

 

Severus resisted the urge to snap at the older man again. Indeed, perhaps it would be wise that Bethany Riddle, whoever she grew up to be, would remain blissfully unaware that her father was a genocidal pure blood supremacist who had wished to conquer the world.

 

He watched as Dumbedore’s wand moved, casting an orange glow upon the hair, before fading to green and ceasing.

* * *

 

That night, a flying motorbike soared across the starry skies, driven by a half giant with a small baby. A wealthy couple sat in their dining room, their table full of food, yet they were both too weary and without an appetite. A woman in the heart of London sat in a rocking chair, desperately trying to sooth the cries of the newest resident. A young man finally collapsed in his bed after a grueling two days and wept. A headmaster met one of his most trusted staff members at a house on Privet Drive. And an entire country celebrated, their glasses clinking together as they toasted to Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived.


	2. Chapter One: Light of All Lights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter titles will be taken from quotes from classic literature. Every year will correspond to a given book. For the first year, quotes will be taken from Bram Stoker's Dracula, which is also mentioned in the chapter.

**Momento Mori**

**Chapter One: Light of All Lights**

_My dearest Mina,_

_Oceans of love and millions of kisses, and may you soon be in your own home with your husband. I wish—_

A sharp knock on the door caused Bethany to jump. "Bethany, are you awake yet?" Dana asked. The sounds of children laughing and racing down the stairs almost muffled the woman's voice.

Bethany rubbed at her eyes. She had been awake for nearly an hour, unable to fall asleep. She had started reading, in hopes she would be able to get more rest before it was time for breakfast. Evidently, she had been unsuccessful. "Yes, Dana."

"Come on downstairs, breakfast is nearly ready!"

Bethany sat up in her bed, reaching for the bookmark on the table beside her. Well, it wasn't as much of a bookmark as it was an old, crumpled grocery receipt, but it worked quite nicely for keeping track of where one was in their book.

She dressed and walked out of room 27, the room she had lived since she was 7 years old. It wasn't a large room; none of the room's at Wool's Orphanage were, but it served as her refuge. Room 27 was the perfect place for a young girl who didn't want to be disturbed could go and read her books in peace. It had a large window, where she could choose to stare out at the street below or close with a heavy, gaudy, yellow curtain. There was a mint green lamp perched atop a rickety nightstand; not much was stored there for fear it would collapse. A white wardrobe with peeling paint sat in the corner, full of donated clothing with minor tears and stains.

The dining room was packed full of fourteen children and Dana, all of them jabbering at once as they battled over the large pot of congealed beige oatmeal in the center of the table. Bethany resisted the urge to wrinkle her nose. It was unlikely Dana had any sugar or cream left to pour over the tasteless meal to give it some flavor. She bit back a sigh and took the only empty seat.

"Don't you want more oatmeal, love?" Dana asked when Bethany only took a single heaping scoop of the oatmeal.

Bethany gave her a polite smile and said, "I'm alright. I'm just not terribly hungry this morning." It was the truth; Bethany rarely ate breakfast anyway.

"Well, if you get hungry later, we've got plenty of fruit in the kitchen. I reckon we'll polish off this oatmeal." Dana gave the girl a smile before drifting off to help one of the younger children scoop their helping.

Beside Bethany sat Owen Farthers, a burly boy of fourteen who was currently wolfing down his bowl of food. Owen was one of the nicest orphans there, in her opinion. He would occasionally speak to her and ask her questions about whatever book she was reading. He ignored her the rest of the time, but he wasn't a bad fellow.

On the other side of her sat one of their newer arrivals, a six year old girl named Emily Hammond. As soon as Bethany had sat down, the girl had scooted over as far as she could to the other side of her chair. She tried to not let the snub bother her; she was used to it from the rest of the girls at the orphanage.

As per usual, Bethany used her left hand to hold up her copy of _Dracula_ while using the opposite to scoop her oatmeal and bring it to her mouth. All around her, the rest of the orphans finished up their food and ran outside to play, while she slowly picked away, engrossed by the story in front of her. Once she was finished, she went to the kitchen, where Dana was now furiously scrubbing at the dishes, handed her the bowl and spoon, grabbed an apple, and hurried back to her room.

Bethany curled up in her bed, but instead of turning back to her book, she watched the orphans outside the window. It was days like these where she felt absence of a family strongly. Bethany had grown up in Wool's Orphanage, with little to call her own. She had been left there by a gentleman called Mr. Snape. Mr. Snape had known Bethany's parents very well, and had received guardianship of her when her parents had died. Unfortunately, he had just been hired as a teacher at a prestigious boarding school in Scotland called Hogwarts. It was a demanding job with many responsibilities, and not a fit place to raise a child. However, it was the wish of Bethany parents that she attend Hogwarts once she reached eleven years of age. Mr. Snape had promised Dana to return to Wool's Orphanage the summer she turned eleven so that she would be able to attend Hogwarts that fall.

Bethany was ten years old now, turning eleven in less than a month. She was counting down the days, waiting until she could leave this awful orphanage.

Bethany tried not to be resentful. She knew that Dana tried her best to make every child feel at home. Dana had inherited the orphanage from her aunt, Ann Cole, when she was only nineteen years old. Dana was a well meaning woman, who did her best, but she was not a mother. She made sure each child was fed and clothed with a roof over their heads. Every once in awhile, she would even pay attention to what they were doing.

A dark shape caught her eye, distracting her from the children playing outside. A tall, sallow man, dressed in a black robe, was now standing at the front of the gate. She leaned closer to the window, studying him. Bethany watched as he entered the courtyard, ignoring the children, and walking towards the door. Was it...could it possibly be?

Bethany raced to the opposite side of the room and pressed her ear to the door. She heard Dana let out a loud exclamation. "Oh, Mr. Snape!" Joy and relief made themselves apparent on Bethany's face. "How nice to see you again!" With the confirmation she had been looking for, she cracked open the door and stepped out into the landing.

"Good morning, Miss White. It's a pleasure to meet you once again."

His voice was low, and Bethany struggled to hear it. Quietly, she sat down on the top step of the stairs, leaning forward

"Oh, please, come on in!" There was a shuffle of footsteps before the door shut. "Why don't I make you some tea, love?"

"That would be marvelous, thank you, Miss White."

A clatter sounded, inevitably caused by Dana reaching for the old tea kettle. "Oh, call me Dana! I haven't been called Miss White since I was in school!"

A silence fell over the pair as Dana started up the tea. Bethany crept closer to the staircase, listening intently. "Now then," said Dana, "I s'pose you've come to ask about Bethany?"

"Yes, I have."

"Well, she's a wonderful child. The teachers at school love her. She's so well behaved, not at all like the others, all rowdy and such. No, she's quiet, sits there and does her work. A bit too quiet, though, if I'm being honest. It's...well, it's strange. Poor dear is so shy."

"Really?"

"Oh, yes! In fact, she's up in her room now, reading a book instead of playing with the others. I used to try and make her go out there, but she would bring it outside with her and read there." An obnoxious squeak of the rocking chair interrupted the flow of conversation. "But she's a good girl. Loves reading. I can't tell you how many books she's read. Good at music, too! She got offered a scholarship to take voice lessons, and now she sounds like an angel. You got a choir at that school of yours?"

"As a matter of fact, we do." Bethany smiled. Even though she knew next to nothing about Hogwarts, it sounded like the perfect place. "But before I speak with her, I must ask you something."

"Oh, anything Mr. Snape! Anything at all!"

"Besides the lack of social skills, has anything odd ever happened involving Bethany?"

Her stomach clenched. This was it, she lamented inwardly. Once Mr. Snape knew the truth, he'd ban her from going to his school. Once Mr. Snape discovered what a freak she was, he'd leave her here at Wool's Orphanage forever

"Well," began Dana, "To be honest, there's been quite a few strange things."

"Yes?"

"She only ever cried that first night she was here. Wanted her father, I think. She kept crying out for her 'Dada'. Poor little dear. But after that night, she was quiet as a church mouse." A clank sounded, as if someone had placed a teacup on a saucer. "I've taken care of lots of babies in my time, and I've never had one like that. It scared me, to tell you the truth. You hear all these stories about babies who never cry, and they grow up to be sociopaths or serial killers!"

Bethany felt her stomach drop. Great, now Mr. Snape would want to send her off to a mental hospital! "While your concerns are understandable, Miss White, I recall her father telling me that he was the same way."

Her eyes widened. Bethany knew next to nothing about her parents. She leaned forward, hoping he would say more about them.

"Course, right. Must be in the genetics and all that." The chair creaked again. "There was one instance at school. It wasn't bad, mind you," Dana insisted hastily, "just silly. There was a little girl in the class with a doll. It was an ugly thing. The doll, not the girl," Dana clarified. "Missing an eye and practically bald. Scared the wits out of the poor dear. She'd come home from school every day, begging me to let her stay home the next day." The rocking chair creaked, and Dana's voice grew quiet. "One day, I get a call from the school. Needed me to fetch all the kids. Says there was a fire. I got there and there's all sorts of firetrucks, bunch of crying kids. Then Bethany's teacher is telling me that damn doll caught aflame, right in the middle of class! Started questioning me and everything, wondering if the girl brought a lighter! I was right furious! The nerve! A six year old girl, committing arson! One as sweet as her? Unthinkable!" Dana composed herself, saying, "Couldn't find no evidence, of course. Ridiculous. I asked Bethany about it all later, worried she was traumatized and whatnot, but she told me she was glad."

Forget the mental hospital; after hearing that story, Bethany was sure Me. Snape would haul her off to a prison! "That's certainly strange," Mr. Snape said.

"Isn't it?" Dana let out a laugh. "And I've heard some rumors, of course, from the other little girls, but they're all rubbish. I've never heard of anyone being able to control and animal to do your bidding!" At this, Bethany felt herself growing ill. "But don't let that worry you, Mr. Snape. She's a good girl, I'll tell you that. You'll like her as a student. What'd you say you teach again?"

"Chemistry."

Bethany frowned. She liked science, but she wasn't terribly good at it. At times it was a bit dry for her. But, she resolved, she would do her best. Anything to go to Hogwarts and get away from Wool's Orphanage.

"Oh, good! She's a smart girl! You'll just adore her, Mr. Snape!"

"Excuse me, Ms. White, but I think now would be the best time for me to speak with Bethany myself."

Eyes widening, Bethany clambered off of the dirty floor and hurried back into Room 27. She heard Dana laughing from downstairs as she twisted the handle and closed the door behind her. She frantically brushed off her jeans, which had dust all over them. A sneeze escaped her as she heard a pair of feet making their way up the steps. Frantically, she threw herself onto the bed, wincing at loud creak, and reached for _Dracula._

A knock sounded at the door. "Come in!" She called out, flipping to a random page and darting her eyes back and forth as to make it seem she was engrossed by its contents.

The door opened to reveal Dana. Her cheeks were pink and there was a wide grin on her face. Behind her stood the man she knew to be Mr. Snape. He was even more sallow in this light, with a pronounced hook nose and stern features. "Bethany, this is Mr. Snape, the man who brought you here all these years ago," said Dana, glancing back to the tall man.

Bethany sat her book down and climbed off the bed. "It's a pleasure to meet you, sir," she said with a smile and an outstretched hand.

He accepted it. "It's nice to meet you as well."

"Mr. Snape is here now to tell you all about Hogwarts," Dana told her, beaming. "I'll just pop downstairs now, keep an eye on the other children." Bethany saw the way Dana's eyes lingered on Mr. Snape before she left the room.

Mr. Snape remained silent for a moment, as Dana's footsteps made the rickety stairs creak. "You are reading _Dracula_?"

"Huh? Oh, um, yes," Bethany scrambled about, managing a weak smile. "It's very good."

"Rather advanced, for someone your age."

She shrugged. "I like to read. I check books out from the library out every week. I don't know what all the words mean, but I can guess." She had begun wringing her hands throughout this speech, avoiding eye contact.

"Have a seat, Bethany," he started. She obliged, hopping onto the edge of her bed. "Now, I understand you know about Hogwarts."

She nodded. "Good," said Mr. Snape. "Well, there are a few things you should know. Firstly, you are a witch."

A stunned silence filled the room. Bethany stared down at her lap, not daring to look at Mr. Snape. "What?" She blinked rapidly, embarrassed as tears began to form, blurring her vision. "That's not a very nice thing to say!" She accused.

"No, no," said Mr. Snape hastily, appearing quite stricken, "what I mean is that you have magical abilities."

Bethany stared at him again, dumbstruck. How could this be possible? Surely, he must be mad! Magic couldn't exist— but, then again...

"Think about it; have there been peculiar things that have happened around you that you cannot explain with logic?"

Bethany, who had now banished away the tears, thought carefully. "Like... speaking to snakes?" She asked. "Because I know how to do that." She sniffled once. "Fiona Reilly caught me once and told everyone, so nobody likes me here now. Can you talk to them, too?"

Mr. Snape seemed to have froze, staring at her warily. Bethany wondered if perhaps she had said something wrong. "No, I cannot," he replied finally. "Parseltongues are very rare. A very small percentage of wizards possess the ability to speak to serpents."

"Does that make me special, then?"

"I suppose it would," Mr. Snape said, shifting uncomfortably.

Bethany was beaming from ear to ear. "Cool! I can do other things, too! Like after I watched Star Wars, I tried to use the Force to reach for my sweater across the room, and it worked! I thought maybe I was a Jedi, but it only worked sometimes after that."

Mr. Snape nodded. "Yes, nonverbal levitation is another common sign of magic in adolescents. At Hogwarts, we teach young witches and wizards on how to control their magical abilities and to help them master the skills required to flourish in our world."

At this, her eyes widened. "You mean there is a whole magical world?"

"Yes. We have a Ministry Of Magic, entire towns with strictly magical populations, banks, shops, and even sporting events."

"Can you show me some magic?" She asked, curious. "It's not that I don't believe you, it's just that—"

"Of course." Mr. Snape pulled out a thin stick— a wand, Bethany figured, from his pocket. " _Wingardium leviosa,_ " he said, pointing it at her copy of _Dracula._ The book floated off the bed, moving where ever he pointed the wand.

"That's... wonderful!"

"It is," Mr. Snape said, with a contented smile on his face as he lowered the book back down. It seemed to be a new thing for him. "In fact, this afternoon, I shall be taking you to Dragon Alley, which is a popular magical shopping district. We shall buy all your items for school there."

At this, the smile on her face fell. "Mr. Snape, I don't think I will be able to buy anything," she said sadly. "I haven't got much money." The truth was, she had no money at all. Dana usually spared her some small change around Christmas and her birthday, enough to purchase herself a chocolate bar.

"You needn't worry," Mr. Snape assured her. "I believe your father left behind a small sum from his days working in retail." On the word 'retail', Mr. Snape's lips curled up into a smirk, as if he were terribly amused. "And in case there is not enough money in his account, there is a special fund that you can use to purchase your school supplies."

At this, her spirits brightened. "Can we go now?" She asked, sliding off the bed onto her feet.

Another rare smile appeared on Mr. Snape's face. "If you wish to go, then we mostly certainly can."

"Thank you, Mr. Snape!"

A strangled noise escaped the man. Bethany frowned, staring up at him, wondering if he was ill. "Forgive me, but nobody calls me Mr. Snape," he explained, "save for Miss White. At Hogwarts, you shall address me as Professor or sir."

"Oh, alright," Bethany said, "Well, thank you very much, Professor Snape. Really."

"It's no problem at all," said the professor, but his smile had grown. "Come along. We shall depart now for Diagon Alley."

After a minute or two of explaining the situation at hand to Dana, Professor Snape and Bethany left the grounds of Wool's Orphanage. Some of the students ignored their departure while the others stood and gawked.

"It is also a good time to let you know that you are not permitted to speak of or use magic in front of Muggles," Professor Snape said lowly as they shut the gate behind them.

Bethany frowned. "Are Muggles people who can't use magic?"

"Yes—pardon me," he apologized, "At times, it is difficult to remember what is common knowledge to someone growing up with Muggles and what is not."

"Did you not grow up with Muggles then, sir?" Bethany questioned as they passed a man walking a golden retriever.

Professor Snape pressed his lips together. "My father was a Muggle," he revealed finally. Sensing the topic was a sore one, Bethany hastily changed the subject, asking him about the different shops in Diagon Alley.

It took fifteen minutes on foot to reach the Leaky Cauldron. Bethany noticed that many passers by ignored the establishment; they must be Muggles. She smiled at the knowledge she was privy to a secret some weren't. The pair walked through the bar, only stopping so that Professor Snape could introduce her to the elderly barkeep, Tom, and they carried on their way.

To say Bethany was amazed once they reached Diagon Alley was an understatement. "I think I'm in shock," she shared with the professor, grinning ear to ear. Dozens of witches and wizards passed by them, wearing tall pointed hats and robes in all colors of the rainbow, ranging from fuchsia to mint green. Professor Snape guided her through the crowds, telling her that their first order of business was at Gringotts.

Bethany was greeted by the sight of small, wrinkled creatures, all dressed in suits, running around the bank. She looked up to Professor Snape, who bent down to whisper, "The employees at the bank are goblins."

Wide eyed, Bethany stared a particularly sour-faced goblin hunched over a desk. Her last recollection of an encounter with a goblin had been from when she watched the animated version of The Hobbit when she was five years old. She had ran out of the room whilst crying once she had realized the goblins had devoured Bilbo's ponies.

Standing very close to Professor Snape, they reached the front counter. Professor Snape spoke lowly to the goblin, nodding once to Bethany. The frowning goblin's gaze fixed itself upon Bethany before curtly nodding to Snape. He summoned a second goblin, who was wearing a green corduroy vest, to his desk, whispered to him, and then told the pair, "Go stand over there. Harlock shall bring you what's left."

Bethany looked up questioning you at Snape. "Most witches and wizard's have a vault," he responded, staring ahead. "The work your father was in paid very little. It was not worth keeping a full vault."

A sinking feeling managed to deflate her excitement. A few minutes later, Harlock appeared, adjusting the gold rim glasses perched atop his nose. Though he was unsmiling, he did not seem to exude the same coldness Bethany had observed in the other goblins. "43 Galleons, 15 Sickles, and 4 Knuts for Miss Riddle," said Harlock, presenting a small yet heavy bag to Bethany.

"Thank you very much, Harlock," she said kindly, accepting the bag with a smile. Harlock blinked twice rapidly before nodding and hurrying off. "Did I do something wrong?" Bethany asked Professor Snape.

"Not at all," he told her. "It's merely that wizards and goblins have very strained relationship."

Bethany was puzzled, but didn't ask any more about it for they were now departing the bank and entering the street. "This sum of money shall get you through at least a couple of years," said Professor Snape. "What would you like to purchase first?" He asked as he presented her with the official letter from Hogwarts.

Her eyes scanned the paper. "Can we buy a wand? I feel like that would the most practical choice."

"Certainly," replied Professor Snape, and he lead her through the crowd.

The pair approached a shop called Ollivander's. "This is the very best wand shop in Diagon Alley," Professor Snape confided as they entered the shop.

"Severus Snape!" A voice cried out as soon as they entered the shop. An elderly man with white hair and a wrinkled face stood behind the counter. His eyes seemed to shine, even in the darkened atmosphere of the shop. "I remember you anywhere. Ebony, 14 and half inches with a dragon heart string core, springy."

"Correct," Professor Snape said.

"I remember every wand I have ever sold," Mr. Ollivander said with a proud smile. "And who is this?"

"Bethany Riddle, and she is here to purchase her first wand."

Mr. Ollivander's eyes widened with recognition. "Yes," he murmured. "I remember your father, you know."

Beside her, Professor Snape stiffened. Bethany glanced up at him, confused. "Yes," Ollivander continued. "Yew, 13 and half inches, with a Phoenix feather core. A very... powerful wand." Mr. Ollivander looked down. "You resemble him."

An icy chill spread through her the same time a warmth swept through her. Ominous as he sounded, any knowledge about her parents was wonderful to her.

"Yes," Professor Snape said suddenly. "Bethany, purchase your wand. I must send an owl to the school, but I shall be back to return for you." Before she could say anything, Professor Snape left the shop, his long black robes making him resemble a large bat.

Mr. Ollivander observed her curiously. "Please stretch out your wand hand."

"My wand hand? Like the hand I write with?"

"Precisely."

Bethany stretched out her right arm, and a measuring tape zoomed about her. "Stand up a little straighter if you please, Miss Riddle," Mr. Ollivander instructed her. Bethany adjusted her posture.

Once the measurements had been taken, Mr Ollivander went into the back and pulled out a long box. "Try this one," he said. "13 inches, oak, with a dragon heart string core."

Bethany picked it up and waved it experimentally. A large bang sounded, shaking the shop. "No, I think," said Ollivander, taking the wand back. Soon, he handed her another one. "12 and half inches, ivy, with a phoenix feather core. Good at charms."

She waved the second wand, only for a box to fall off the shelf. "Not this one, either. Do not fret, Miss Riddle," said Ollivander, sensing how disheartened she was growing. "It's rare for someone to find a wand so soon. Your father tried out thirteen wands before finding his, and I believe it took your mother seventeen to find hers."

"You know my mother?"

"Of course," Ollivander said, picking up the wand that Bethany had knocked to the ground. "12 inches, willow, with a dragon heart string core with an affinity for transfiguration."

"What was her name, sir?" Bethany asked. While her father was a murky mystery, she knew next to nothing about her mother.

If Ollivander was surprised by her question, his expression did not show it. "Delilah Shafiq," he replied, staring down at the wand cradled in his hands. "The youngest of three sisters and the daughter of Horus Shafiq." He opened the lid to her box and handed her the wand. "Here. 10 and three quarters, made of hawthorn with a core of unicorn hair. Surprisingly springy."

She took the wand and felt a warmth against her finger tips. This was it, this was her wand. She waved it and brightness emitted from it, filling the dark shop with dull glow.

"Interesting," said Ollivander, a smile creeping across his lips. "I believe we have found your wand, Miss Riddle."

After Bethany had exchanged 11 Galleons for her wand, she asked, "Sir, why did you say it was interesting? Was it because it only took me three tries?"

"The brevity in which it took you for your wand to find you was unusual, Miss Riddle, but not unheard of," replied Ollivander, "No, I was remarking upon the wand itself. You see, I sold its twin today."

"What do you mean?" Bethany asked.

Ollivander rested his hands on the counter. "I've been selling wands for 88 years, Miss Riddle, and I remember every single wand I have made and sold. Your father's wand had a brother, the feather coming from the same phoenix. However, in all my years, I only have made three sets of twins, including yours. Two wands, from the same hawthorn tree, and the hairs from the same unicorn. I fashioned them when I was an apprentice for my father over the summer of my sixth year. They have been sitting in this shop for nearly 90 years... and I sold them both today." Ollivander's eyes twinkled. "Some may call it a coincidence, but I call it fate, Miss Riddle. Somehow, your lives shall become intertwined, incomprehensible from one another."

Bethany opened her mouth to speak but at that moment, the door was thrown open by Professor Snape. "Have you purchased a wand?" She nodded. "Good. Come along. We must leave." He seemed to glare at Mr. Ollivander.

Bethany turned back to the wand maker and gave a hasty, "Thank you very much, sir," before leaving with Professor Snape.

"Did he say anything after I left?" The professor asked almost immediately

"Not a lot, sir— he told me that he sold my wand's twin today," she said, glancing down at the wand clenched tightly in her hand. "And a little about my parents."

"What did he tell you?" His voice was severe.

She was taken aback by the unfamiliar severity, but said, "Just my Mum's name, and a little about her family."

The tenseness that had appeared in him seemed to vanish away with that. "I see. I think Flourish and Blott's will be our next stop."

Professor Snape lead her to another store. Upon entering, Bethany was ecstatic to see shelves upon shelves of books. "I thought you might appreciate visiting this store," the professor said.

Before she could respond, she was interrupted by another's voice. "Ah! Severus!"

Bethany turned around, seeing a tall man with long platinum blond hair approach them. In his left hand he held a cane with a serpent head attached to it. Beside him stood a young boy around Bethany's age, who was a miniature version of him, only with short, slicked back hair.

"Lucius," Professor Snape greeted the man, "I see you have Draco with you today—is he buying his school things?"

"As a matter of fact, he is," the man called Lucius replied. "He's already been fitted his robes and bought his wand. Narcissa is off to the apothecary right now, buying him a cauldron."

"I'm looking forward to your class very much," the boy Bethany presumed to be Draco told Professor Snape.

"And I look forward to having my godson as a student. We've just purchased a wand as well."

It was at this point in time in which Lucius seemed to notice Bethany's presence. "Hello," he said, displaying his teeth with a wide smile, "my name is Lucius Malfoy."

"It is nice to meet you, sir," she responded. "My name is Bethany Riddle."

A flicker of recognition crossed Lucius's face— Bethany was rather hoping he would divulge more information about her family— but it disappeared. "First year at Hogwarts? It will be Draco's first time attending as well," he said, placing a hand on his son's shoulder. His focus shifted back to Professor Snape. "We'd thought of sending him to Durmstrang for— well, _obvious_ reasons, but Narcissa couldn't bear the thought of him being so far away."

"Yes. Well, rest assured, Lucius, he shall receive a more than adequate education at Hogwarts as well."

"Of course he shall!" Lucius beamed down at his son, "He's a bright boy, after all. He shall be able to withstand the unpleasantries that come with attending the best school in the world!" He turned to Draco. "Why don't you help Bethany find her textbooks? It's been far too long since Severus and I have had the luxury to chat."

Draco nodded. "Follow me, then," he said to Bethany, and she followed after him nervously.

"I'm Draco, by the way," he said as they turned down an aisle.

"Yes, I rather assumed," Bethany said, not paying much attention to him. There were so many books, all of them so different than anything she had ever seen. A lavender book with gold letter proclaimed itself to be _Muggle Remedies to Cure Even The Sickest Wizard._ A thick black volume stated that it was _Aurelius Cattermole's Guide to Garden Pests._

"So," Draco said, pausing as he reached for a thin textbook, "what house do you think you'll be in?"

"House?"

"I'll be in Slytherin." He stated, as if he were boasting about it. "My whole family's been in Slytherin for centuries. Here, this one's for Herbology."

Bethany found herself overwhelmed. "I don't know which house my parents were in," she confessed. "In fact, I don't know any of the houses. Well, besides Slytherin. And that's only because you mentioned it," she added.

Draco gaped at her. "So your parents are our sort? Wizards?"

"Yes," Bethany said, clutching the new book tight to her chest. She took a moment to inhale the scent of the fresh parchment and the ink. "Well, they were. They're dead now."

"Oh. I'm sorry," Draco said, appearing surprised by the news.

"It's alright," said Bethany; it was her default response. "That's why Professor Snape is helping me out today."

"I see," Draco said. He then launched into an explanation of each of the four houses at Hogwarts. Gryffindor, he said, was full of show offs who disguised their foolhardy antics as bravery, Hufflepuff consisted of talentless nobodies, Ravenclaws were for the know-it-alls, and Slytherin was for the only wizards worth associating with. "I supposed Ravenclaw isn't so bad though," he commented. "They're a little stuck up—" At this, Bethany resisted the urge to laugh; ever since meeting Draco and his father, it had been apparent the were a family full of wealth and a sense of entitlement— "but Father says they're worth having around. They observe things others don't. But Slytherin is the best by far," he boasted.

"Slytherin certainly sounds like—er, the most desirable option," Bethany said, trying to remain polite. "I wouldn't mind being a Ravenclaw, though. I like to read."

Draco shrugged. "Suit yourself." He started walking off to another aisle.

As they selected books, Draco took it upon himself to educate her on parts of the wizarding world that Professor Snape had neglected. For instance, the primary method of correspondence was via owl, the headmaster of Hogwarts was "an old fool" named Albus Dumbledore (Draco confided that his father believed the man wouldn't last long— "He says senility is starting to kick in."), and that the best wizarding sweet was the Chocolate Frog (Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans were reportedly always good for a bit of fun, though).

A topic in which Draco was especially passionate about was Quidditch, a magical sport played on a broomstick. "I'm going to try out second year, I think," he told her before handing her Miranda Goshawk's _Standard Book Of Spells._ "I don't know if I'll go for Seeker or Chaser yet— I'd rather be Seeker, though."

Bethany, who barely understood any of the words he was saying, was nevertheless intrigued. "Why second year?"

"First years aren't allowed brooms," he told her quietly as they reached the potions text books. "I don't think it's fair— I mean, just because the Mudbloods haven't flown on a broom before—"

"Wait, what's a Mudblood?"

The grey haired witch who had been inspecting a book on _Advanced Brews for the Skilled Potionsmaster_ gasped loudly. "Really! I don't think there is a need for that sort of language! Where are your parents?" She demanded.

Draco reached for Bethany's hand and dragged her away, all but sprinting away. "Why was she so upset? Did I say something wrong?" She asked, feeling very confused.

Draco looked about before whispering, "Some people don't like the word Mudblood. It's a word for people whose parents aren't magical."

Bethany frowned. She had thought it was the name of some type of magical creature. She hadn't been expecting it to refer to other people. "It doesn't sound like a very nice term."

"Well, it isn't meant to be," Draco said with a sneer. "Their sort shouldn't be allowed to Hogwarts, if you ask me. It's clear they've stolen their magic from somebody."

Bethany was about to retort before she was distracted by a golden book with midnight blue lettering. _Hogwarts, A History_ by Bathilda Bagshot sat on the shelf, practically calling out to her. Bethany picked up the book lovingly. "This looks so cool," she said aloud, her fingers tracing over the lettering.

"I think my Mum's got a copy in our library," remarked Draco, not impressed at all.

Her eyes lit up. "You've got a library? In your house?"

"Yeah, of course," he said nonchalantly, but Bethany could tell her amazement was a source of pride. "We've got hundreds upon thousands of books in there. Maybe you could come see it someday."

"Maybe," Bethany said, looking back down at the book. In truth, as fascinating as the information Draco offered her was, she had the distinct impression that he might not be the most pleasant person to spend time with. The idea of her every perusing the Malfoy's library seemed as unlikely as drinking tea with the Queen.

Her eyes fell on the price tag. Her stomach dropped. With a heavy heart, Bethany placed the book back on the shelf. "You don't want it?" Draco seemed shocked.

"I do," she admitted, casting a longing glance. "But I need to save my money for the necessary school supplies."

"But it's only 16 Sickles!" Clearly, the notion of not being able to afford something had never been an issue to Draco Malfoy.

Bethany merely sighed. "Come on. Let's go back and get the potions textbook and hope that lady is gone."

Draco didn't speak again and followed her to the aisle. Mercifully, the woman was gone, and Bethany grabbed her final textbook. Since it was the last one, so they wandered back to Professor Snape and Draco's father after Bethany had paid for her books.

"Did you find everything you needed?" Lucius asked her politely.

"Yes, I did. Draco was very helpful."

"I'm glad to hear it." His pale eyebrows quirked upward. "It was nice speaking with you, Severus. Draco and I should probably leave— Narcissa will wonder where we are—"

"Actually, Father, there was another book I wanted," Draco said, avoiding eye contact with Bethany.

"Another Quidditch book, is it?" Draco nodded. "Oh, alright." Lucius pulled out at least 5 galleons from his pocket. "Go on now. Try to hurry." Draco took off without looking back.

Bethany and Professor left the shop soon after that, entering a shop called Madame Malkin's.

It wasn't until they had begun their trek back to orphanage that Bethany dared ask "Sir, can you tell me about my parents?"

She heard him draw in a deep breath. "It's just that Dana said you told her that you were friends with them," Bethany said hastily. "But then again, you couldn't tell her a lot of stuff—"

"I knew both your parents," Professor Snape cut her off softly. "'Friends' may be a... _liberal_ use of the word, but I did know them. I know more about your father than your mother."

"Mr. Ollivander said I looked like him."

"You have his coloring. Personally, I think you resemble your mother quite a bit."

"What were they like, sir?"

There was silence, save for the shuffling of their footsteps. Bethany was wondering if he would ever answer her when he finally said, "Your mother was four years older than myself. She was only twenty four when she had you." He cleared his throat. "I didn't know her very well, personally. She was...timid. She never picked any fights. Always mild mannnered and well behaved. Her father was devastated by her death. She had always his favorite child."

"Horus Shafiq?" Professor Snape arched a questioning eyebrow. "Mr. Ollivander told me his name. He said she was called Delilah."

Professor Snape nodded. "She was something of a potions savant as well," he said suddenly. "I don't believe she excelled in any other subjects, but she was brilliant with potions. Professor Slughorn— he was the Potions professor when we were at Hogwarts— had her tutor countless students. I even took a few lessons from her, just to learn more about the subject."

Another silence fell over the pair. "What was my father's name?" She asked him.

He let out a sigh. "Tom Riddle Jr." He said finally.

"Jr.?"

"His father was Sr."

"I gathered that," Bethany said, somewhat irate by his sudden reticence. "You said you knew him better?"

"Indeed, I did. He was some years older than your mother— nearly three decades older, in fact." Before Bethany could press on further, he said, "Bethany, there is something I have not yet told you."

Her brow narrowed. "What?"

"Miss White has probably told you that your parents were victims of a car accident. This was a story I told her. The truth is that your parents were murdered."

A gasp escaped her before she could stop it. Her gait had halted, her gaze fixed upon where her toes sat inside her ratty trainers. She gulped in air as if it were water. "Why?"

"Nobody knows why," Professor Snape said. He paused. "There was never any proof, but many believe the Dark Lord was responsible for the death of your mother."

Bethany's eyes widened. "Who's he?"

"A formidable dark wizard whose power rose shortly before the time you were born. Most wizards commonly refer to him as You-Know-Who or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. His true name is spoken by few, out of sheer fear." He cleared his throat again. "I shall say it aloud to you for you once: Voldemort." The name sent a chill up her spine. "He has not been seen for nearly a decade now, but many still fear his return. He hasn't been since 1981 after—" he paused, now blinking rapidly "—after he tried to kill a small child. Nobody knows if he is living or dead, but our world still fears him a great deal."

Bethany nodded, still trying to process everything. "So... he killed my parents?"

"It is believed he did," he affirmed.

It was an odd response, but Bethany didn't say another word the rest of the way home to the orphanage.

Professor Snape handed Bethany her letter as she unpacked her school books, handing her the train ticket and instructing her to go King's Cross and board on Platform 9 3/4. "Oh, and Bethany?"

She looked up. "Yes?"

"It would be wise if you to keep your Parseltongue abilities hidden for now."

Her brow furrowed. "Why?"

"Many wizards react negatively to it," Professor Snape stated. "As I stated, it is an incredibly rare ability that cannot be taught."

Bethany was confused, but nodded and said, "I won't tell anybody."

Professor Snape left shortly thereafter, and Bethany peered outside the window as he pushed past the iron gates, already counting the days until she could leave here as well.

 


	3. Chapter Two: Castles in the Air

**Momento Mori**

**Chapter Two: Castles in the Air**

August 23rd came and passed without a great deal of excitement from anyone besides Bethany. It was her birthday, an occasion that was sparsely celebrated. Dana would usually bake a cake from a box or pick one up from the supermarket. She almost always had a chocolate cake— it was the most popular amongst the orphans, but it happened to be Bethany's least favorite. There was always a rousing, cacophonous chorus of 'Happy Birthday' before she blew out the candles and the rest of the children dug in and ravenously devoured their share.

This was, however, one of the happiest birthday's Bethany could remember. For one, Dana baked a lemon cake this year—it had been on sale at the store—and Bethany had been reading through all her textbooks, eager to know everything she could about the wizarding world. It was amazing realization, to realize she wasn't a freak, but was, in fact, someone with special abilities.

Almost a week after her birthday, September 1st had rolled around. Dana had driven her to King's Cross in her rusty, unreliable car. "I wish I could stay to see you off dear, but you know I don't feel right about making Richard and Jenifer watch all them kids by themselves, they're just kids themselves," she said with an apologetic smile.

"It's alright, Dana, I'll manage."

"Course you will. Now don't forget to send us a letter every now and then!"

Dana drove off, leaving Bethany with her heavy trunk and her school letter clenched in her hand. Bethany managed to load her trunk into a trolly with the help of a kind middle aged gentleman and she then began walking in the direction of where Platform 9 and 3/4 ought to be.

She found no sign of such a thing, but she did find a scrawny boy with dark hair who looked as confused as she did. Glancing around, she whispered loudly, "Are you looking for Platform 9 and 3/4, too?"

The boy jumped, but nodded. "Yeah. Do you know where it's at?"

"No."

Just then, a red haired woman with several children passed by, saying something about Hogwarts. Bethany and the boy exchanged a glance before following her.

After sending her twin boys on ahead, the woman explained to both Bethany and other boy that in order to go through to Platform 9 and 3/4, one must walk through where the signs for Platforms 9 and 10 were located. "It's best if you just run through. It makes it a fair bit easier."

Bethany thanked her before closing her eyes and running as fast as she could. She half expected to hit her head on the wall and be knocked unconscious. However, much to her surprise, she found herself on a bustling train platform, full of people who were recognizable as witches and wizards.

"Need any help?"

Bethany turned to see the two red headed twins standing in front of her. "Oh, um, yes. Thank you," she said, as they lifted up her trunk and helped load it.

"No problem," said one of the twins.

The boy with black hair came by as well, and the twins helped him load his possessions as well. Bethany took this as an opportunity to move onward. Her leather book bag, a purchase Professor Snape had assured her was a worthwhile investment, was slung across her frame, her crumpled robes inside along with one of her textbooks— either the Potions book or Herbology, she couldn't remember.

Bethany snuck into one of the bathrooms and gratefully shed away her baggy red sweatshirt and worn denim jeans. Though they were wrinkled, Bethany beamed with pride at the brand new set of robes she was wearing. Professor Snape had encouraged her to purchase them second hand, but she had refused. For the first time in her life, she was wearing clothes that were hers and hers alone.

She left the bathroom, now in search of somewhere to sit. Bethany passed compartment after compartment, each of them full.

"Hey! You there!"

Bethany turned around to see Draco Malfoy. He was already dressed in his school robes as well. "Bethany, right?"

"Yes," Bethany said, irritated. He had met her only a little more than a month ago; was she really that forgettable?

"I was hoping I would run into you," Draco said. "Come on, let's find a compartment."

She blinked in surprise, but was grateful nonetheless. She certainly wasn't going to protest the arrangement. He lead her through the compartment before exclaiming, "Oh, there's Crabbe and Goyle! I know them! Our fathers are friends!"

Bethany couldn't stop the grimace from forming on their face. "Who names their kids Crabbe and Goyle?" _Then again,_ she thought, _who names their kid Draco?_

Draco laughed. "No, no, they're called Vincent and Gregory. I just call them by their surnames."

Bethany let out a sigh of relief. Still, it amused her that Draco would use a word as ostentatious as "surname". Even though their interactions were limited, Bethany rather thought some of his behavior and speech was in line with a ridiculously wealthy man from a Victorian novel.

They entered the compartment, where Draco introduced her to two burly, muscular boys named Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. Much of what they said was spoken in low mumbles and occasional grunts, and altogether not terribly impressive. Draco, however, didn't seem to notice or care, and began talking about the latest Quidditch game he had attended. Bethany, who was trying to remain involved in conversation, took this as an opportunity as to gain a full and comprehensive understanding of the sport, and began making inquiries. "—and once the Seeker catches the Snitch, the game is over."

"Can anyone else catch the Snitch?" She asked. "Like let's say a Beater catches it— is that against the rules or is the team awarded points and the game continues?"

"It's a penalty," Draco replied. "Actually, there's a book called Quidditch Through the Ages that outlines the rules precisely. I'm sure they've got a copy of it in the library at Hogwarts. Ooh, look— the trolley lady!" He jumped up from his seat beside Bethany. "Want anything?" He asked his companions.

While Vincent and Gregory requested Sugar Quills and Fizzing Whizbees respectively, Bethany declined. She would barely have enough money next year for supplies if she squandered it on things like sweets. "Oh, come on now," he said, "If anyone should try this, it should be you." He then promptly asked for two pumpkin pasties, four chocolate frogs, and a package of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans.

"Here," Draco handed her a handful of sweets to her. "At least try it. If you don't like something, one of us will eat it."

Hesitantly, Bethany opened up the box advertised as a Chocolate Frog. True to its name, there was indeed a frog made of chocolate inside, seeming to stare up at her with beady eyes. She picked it up, breaking off a piece of it's foot. "Mmm!"

"Good, isn't it? What card have you got, then?"

"Card? Oh!" On the bottom of the box sat a blue card. Bethany picked up, looking down at a raven haired woman wearing midnight blue robes. "Rowena Ravenclaw," she read aloud. She glanced up at Draco. "The founder of Ravenclaw?"

"Yeah," he said, scooting closer so he could peer down at it. "I've got a couple of her cards at home, I think."

Bethany, deciding not to attempt eating her second chocolate frog just yet, tried the pumpkin pasty next. She deemed them to be "not bad".

"The house elves at home make them in the winter," Draco said wistfully, nibbling on his own.

Bethany frowned. "What are house elves?"

"They're creatures that wizards use as servants. Well, those of us who have enough money, anyway," he wiped crumbs off his legs. "We've got three at Malfoy Manor. Hey, you need to try these." Draco unwrapped the final sweets. "Careful, they really do mean every flavor."

Bethany cautiously picked up a golden bean and took a small bite, leaving half. "This is good," she said aloud, "but I don't know what it is."

Draco took the second half from her. "I think it's Butterbeer. You won't be able to have the real thing until we go to Hogsmeade third year, though. Father let me try a sip of it once."

Bethany managed to try beans that tasted like broccoli, coffee, plum, lime, basil, and mud. Draco had unfortunately reached for a bright red bean that he thought was cherry and was instead hot pepper. Crabbe and Goyle howled with laughter as he began wolfing down a chocolate frog to get rid of the taste.

"Actually, that was quite smart," Bethany told him. "Studies have shown that chocolate or even a glass of milk can help alleviate you after eating spicy food better than water can."

Before Draco could respond, the compartment door slid open, revealing a dark haired girl with a pug face and a petite blonde. "Hello, Draco!" The pug faced girl greeted him. "Oh, Vincent and Gregory are here too, Daphne! Hi, boys!"

They mumbled in response, whereas Draco replied with a "Hi, Pansy."

"Have you heard the news?"

"What?"

"Harry Potter is on the train!" Pansy revealed with excitement. "Daphne and I have been looking for him, to see if the rumors are true!"

"Really?" Draco asked, eyes widening.

"Yes!" She nodded emphatically. "Well, we had better get going—it was nice to see you!"

Bethany frowned at the girl as she left. "That was Pansy Parkinson," Draco informed her unnecessarily. "My mother and hers were friends back at Hogwarts."

It seemed as though all the friends Draco had were through his parents. However, Bethany figured she shouldn't judge. Up until now, she hadn't been able to find someone who wanted to converse with her for more than a few minutes, and the only person she could so far maybe consider as a friend was Draco himself. "She seemed rather rude to me," Bethany said bluntly.

Draco merely shrugged. "Do you want to see if we can find Harry Potter?" He asked everyone.

Crabbe shrugged whilst Goyle managed a "Sure."

Draco turned to Bethany. She offered a "Why not?"

And so the four of them left their compartment, Bethany carrying her book bag along in the hopes that she might find someone more pleasant to sit with.

It wasn't that she hated Draco— she didn't even dislike him. In fact, there was a great deal to like about him. He was knowledgeable on a number of things and could explain things to her without being terribly condescending; and what's more, he genuinely seemed to enjoy her company. However, it was apparent that his parents had given him everything he had ever desired, and Bethany rather suspected he parroted many of his father's ideas and opinions. He might be a useful ally, but it might be best for her to acquaint herself with others.

"Stop!" The group halted. Draco glanced inside one of the compartments. Inside what the dark haired boy Bethany had met when she had arrived to King's Cross. Across from him sat the younger brother of the helpful twins. "Do you think this is him? I think I see the scar on his forehead!"

Bethany stood on her toes. Indeed, some sort of scar seemed to be hidden beneath his dark hair. "I met him," she said quietly to Draco while Crabbe and Goyle gawked through the window.

"Really? I did, too. In Diagon Alley. I didn't know it was him until today. When did you meet him?"

"Today, when I was trying to get onto the platform. He seemed nice. So did the boy with him. His mum and brothers were very helpful."

Draco scoffed. "Him? He looks like a Weasley!"

"What's a— what's that?" Bethany asked, remembering with shame the last time she had heard Draco use a word she was unfamiliar with.

Draco smirked. "They're a family full of gingers. They have about ten kids and hardly any money. Just look at his clothes! I bet they've been worn by all the rest of them!"

Indignation swelled up inside Bethany, who was thinking about the used clothing currently in her book bag. She considering calling him out when he said, "Come on! We ought to save him from being bored to tears! No doubt Weasley is droning on and on about Muggles or something as equally as dull!"

Draco threw open the door with gusto and exclaimed, "Is it true? They're saying all over the train that Harry Potter is in this compartment!"

Bethany managed to back away from the other boys, lurking behind a wall so as not to be observed by the two boys in there. Clearly, making friends all by himself was not Draco's specialty. Bethany cringed as he insulted the Weasley boy.

Harry Potter didn't sound terribly impressed. "I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks."

Bethany let out a giggle. Goyle turned around, an expression of confusion etched across his features. Bethany paid him no mind, continuing to listen in.

"I'd be careful if I were you, Potter. Unless you're politer, you'll go the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them, either. You hang out with riffraff like the Weasleys and that Hagrid and it'll rub off on you."

_Draco, you idiot!_

Soon enough, a fight broke out, and eventually Ron Weasley's rat bit Goyle and the three of them scrambled out. "Bethany, hurry up!" Draco called out, running down the corridor.

"I'll catch up later," she yelled back, but had no real intentions of meeting up with him again on the train ride.

She stepped into the corridor, where Ron Weasley was staring down at his rat. "Hello," she said, "I'm Bethany Riddle. Is your rat alright?"

"Yeah, I think so," said the redhead. "I think he's been knocked out though—no, wait. I don't believe it. He's fallen back asleep. I'm Ron, by the way. Ron Weasley."

"And I'm Harry Potter," said Harry, grinning at her.

"It's nice to meet you both." A pause. "I like what you said to him, by the way. Draco, that is."

"Thanks," said Harry, running a hand through his hair.

"I don't think making friends is a talent of his—"

"What's been going on in here?"

A bushy haired girl appeared, with large bucked teeth. Her hands were placed on her hip, disapproving.

Ron ignored her. "You met Malfoy before, Harry?"

"Yeah. In Madame Malkins, while I was getting fitted for my rooms. He was insulting Hagrid and people whose parents didn't have magic." His brow furrowed. "Why were you with him? I saw you with him at first, but then you slipped away."

"I met him in Diagon Alley, too. He helped me find my books. He was decent enough to me but— he said something bad about people without magical parents to me as well. He found me on the train and had me sit with him for awhile, along with those oafs."

"I've heard of his family before. They were some of the first to come back to our side after You-Know-Who disappeared. Said they'd been bewitched. My dad doesn't believe it. He says Malfoy's father didn't need an excuse to go over to the Dark Side," Ron said. He turned to the bushy haired girl and asked, "Can we help you with something?"

"You better hurry up and put your robes on—" she glanced at Bethany, "Well, not you." She stuck out her hand. "I don't believe we've met yet. I'm Hermione Granger."

Bethany shook her hand. "I'm Bethany Riddle. It's nice to meet you," she added.

Hermione beamed before turning back to the boys. "I've been speaking to the conductor and he says we are nearly there. I certainly hope you haven't been fighting—"

"Scabbers has been fighting, not us," Ron nodded down the rat. "Do you mind leaving while we change?"

Hermione seemed put off. "All right. I only came in here because people outside are behaving very childishly, racing up and down the corridors. You've got dirt on your nose, by the way. Did you know?" She added before leaving.

Ron's hand flew to his long nose, rubbing the dirt off as best as he could. He glared at the space where Hermione had previously been standing.

Bethany gave them a very hesitant smile. "I guess I'll just leave now, give you some privacy—"

"Oh no," protested Ron. "You're fine, we'll just throw them on over our clothes— I was just trying to get rid of her," Ron said darkly.

Bethany frowned. "You didn't like her?"

"Did you?"

Bethany shrugged. "She seemed... Well, forceful is the world I would use for it, but I think she means well."

Ron grimaced. "She's a nightmare! She came in here, bragging about spells she'd tried—"

"But Professor Snape told me we weren't allowed to use magic outside of school!"

"Snape?"

"Yeah," Bethany said, "he was the professor who helped me around Diagon Alley. My parents have— well, they're dead. I've spent my whole life in an orphanage—"

And so that was how Bethany started out her entire life story to Harry and Ron, up from the day Professor Snape had left her in the orphanage as a baby up until he returned her there after their trip to Diagon Alley. Along the way, she learned more about each of the boys: for instance, Harry had grown up with Muggles as well, and Ron told her about his seven siblings.

"I don't envy you for that," Ron said with a shudder as he pulled the threadbare robes over his head. "My brothers have said Snape is the worst professor. He doesn't like students who aren't in Slytherin."

"Huh. I didn't realize he was in Slytherin. He was nice to me. Do you know what house you'll be in?"

"Gryffindor is my best guess. That's where my whole family has been," said Ron.

"So were mine. Hagrid told me so," Harry told her.

"Well, I don't know what house my family was in. I wish Professor Snape had told me."

"I'm sure you'll find out," Harry said. Bethany gave him a warm smile. Already, she liked the company in this compartment better— perhaps it was because all its passengers were able to form coherent sentences, or because both Ron and Harry seemed to be nice people.

A voice interrupted them, echoing throughout the train. "We will be teaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."

Harry, Ron, and Bethany exchanged dubious looks before scrambling out into the hallway and joined the crowd that was forming.

The train managed to come to a halt, and the trio began shoving themselves through. Bethany kept glancing back, making sure she had her sights set on the boys. They managed to climb off the train, still together. An icy chill permeated the autumn air and Bethany wrapped her arms around herself for warmth.

A glowing lamp appeared, accompanied by a loud, bellowing voice. "Firs' years over here! Firs' years! All right there, Harry?"

The voice, it seems, belonged to a large, bearded man. It would be easy to be frightened of him, if it weren't for the mirthfulness that seemed to radiate from him.

"C'mon now, follow me— anymore firs' years? Mind yer step now! Firs' years, follow me!"

All the first years scurried after the giant man. "Do you know him, Harry? Who is he?" Bethany whispered.

"That's Hagrid."

"Oh. He seems very nice," she replied.

They were soon walking down a narrow path, which seemed to be coated with mud as several students slipped on their way down. Bethany nearly lost her balance once, and had to seize Harry's shoulders to steady herself.

"Ye all get yer firs' sight o'Hogwarts in a sec, jus' round this bend here," Hagrid called out.

Bethany felt as all the breath had left her body. To say Hogwarts was magnificent was an understatement. No, resplendent seemed a more fitting world. It sat beside an impressive mountain, overlooking a dark lake, the lights shining off the bobbling waves. Bethany saw lofty towers, wondering what it would be like to live inside one of them.

It was everything she had dreamed of and more.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid shouted. Harry, Ron, and Bethany made their way to a small boat, followed by Hermione. Bethany heard Ron groan quietly to himself.

The four of them rowed their little boat towards the castle on Hagrid's command, Bethany's excitement growing the closer they came to the castle. She felt her heart beating against her rib cage, her palms were sweaty, her mouth sore from the wide smile on her face.

The climbed out of their boats as soon as they reached the castle, all eager to enter the place that would be their home for the next seven years. Through it all, a silence had fallen over the students, each of them in awe. Hagrid said a few words before knocking on the massive door, which opened almost instantaneously. A dark haired witch in emerald robes overlooked them, her glasses perched upon her nose.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall."

"Thank you, Hagrid," she said, her voice clipped. "I will take them from here."

Professor McGonagall lead them through the castle, lecturing them as they moved through the castle and towards the Great Hall. She mentioned something about a Sorting ceremony, and advised them all to "smarten up".

"How do they sort us into houses?" She heard Harry ask Ron.

Ron shrugged. "Some sort of test, I think. Fred says it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking."

Before Bethany could inquire more about it, a pale specter zoomed past her line of vision. A high pitches yelp escaped her.

She wasn't the only one startled. Numerous students were making noises signifying their fear. Several translucent beings were floating amongst them, hovering above them. Each of them resembled a flesh and blood human in stature and features, it was clear these were whatever remained of someone's soul.

"Nobody told me ghosts were real!" Bethany hissed, looking at Ron. "Does every witch or wizard become a ghost after they die?" She has always believed in some form of the afterlife, but Bethany supposed remaining for centuries to watch the world shift and grow would be such a terrible fate.

"No," Ron responded. "You only become a ghost if your soul doesn't move on. Like if you really want to stay around."

"Cool," she murmured, glancing at the only female ghost among them, who was floating high in the air and paying no heed to the other phantoms or the first years.

"New students! About to be sorted, I suppose?" A jolly, fat ghost asked the group, now capturing Bethany's attention. After a few students nodded, he said, "Hope to see you in Hufflepuff! My house, you know!"

Professor McGonagall returned. "Move along now," she said sharply. "The Sorting is about to begin."

Bethany inhaled deeply. Whether there was a test or not, she knew if she was all nerves up, she would be bound to fail. "Form a line and follow me," she heard Professor McGonagall say.

Bethany stood in front of Harry, but behind a sandy haired boy. They marched in, ushered into the place that was aptly named the Great Hall.

There were four tables line up vertically throughout, one for each house, and another up a small flight of steps for the teachers. Lot candles hovered above, adding illumination. But the most radiant sight of all was the clear, starry sky above. It was one of the most breathtaking sights she had ever seen— she never had witnessed the stars so clearly in London.

"It's bewitched to look like the sky outside," Bethany heard Hermione Granger say, "I read in _Hogwarts, A History_."

An unpleasant sting of jealousy seized over Bethany in that precise moment. She had known that book would be useful, that it would have worthwhile information... what if she failed the Sorting test, all because she hadn't the money to spend on a book she had really wanted?

It was then that she noticed a ratty old hat perched atop a four legged stool.

Bethany was about to ask Ron what it was when it began to sing:

" _Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,_

_But don't judge on what you see,_

_I'll eat myself if you can find_

_A smarter hat than me._

_You can keep your bowlers black,_

_Your top hats sleek and tall,_

_For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_

_And I can cap them all._

_There's nothing hidden in your head_

_The Sorting Hat can't see,_

_So try me on and I will tell you_

_Where you ought to be._

_You might belong in Gryffindor,_

_Where dwell the brave at heart,_

_Their daring, nerve, and chivalry_

_Set Gryffindors apart;_

_You might belong in Hufflepuff,_

_Where they are just and loyal,_

_Those patient Hufflepuffs are true_

_And unafraid of toil;_

_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_

_if you've a ready mind,_

_Where those of wit and learning,_

_Will always find their kind;_

_Or perhaps in Slytherin_

_You'll make your real friends,_

_Those cunning folk use any means_

_To achieve their ends._

_So put me on! Don't be afraid!_

_And don't get in a flap!_

_You're in safe hands (though I have none)_

_For I'm a Thinking Cap!"_

The other students began to applaud. "That's it?" She said aloud. "We just have to wear a talking hat?" Bethany wasn't about to complain, but she was surprised that it was such an easy process.

Professor McGonagall picked the hat up and called out, "Abbott, Hannah!"

A girl with blonde pigtails stumbled up to the front of the hall. Professor McGonagall places the hat on her head. A moment later, it cried out, "HUFFLEPUFF!"

The Hufflepuff table burst into cheers as she joined them. Bethany was relieved by the relatively simple process. But how was it the Hat knew which house to place someone in?

She watched as several students climbed to the front of the hall and were dispersed according to whatever the Hat shrieked out. Some took a long time; It took at least a couple of minutes for the Hat to determine Hermione Granger was a Gryffindor.

For other students, however, it seemed as though the Hat had barely touched their head. Such was the case for Draco Malfoy. He grinned triumphantly as the Hat shouted, "SLYTHERIN!" for all to hear. He seemed pleased as he hopped off the stool to join the roaring crowd of Slytherins.

Finally, "Potter, Harry!" was called by Professor McGonagall and Bethany knew that if she wasn't next, she would be close. The mere mention of Harry's name seemed to spark miniature explosions throughout the Great Hall as students whispered to themselves, trying to affirm if it was "the" Harry Potter.

Bethany watched with rapt attention as Harry sat on the stool, his face twisting every so often. Almost a full minute had passed before the Hat screamed, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Bethany beamed as Harry's face lit up. The entire Gryffindor seemed to come to life, celebrating the induction of Harry Potter as if they had just won a battle. "WE GOT POTTER!" Bethany heard one of Ron's brother yell.

Professor McGonagall waited for the raucous noise to die down before calling out, "Riddle, Bethany!"

She stepped forward, aware that her hands were trembling. Still, she remained composed as she sat down on the stool.

**Riddle, eh?** Bethany nearly jolted as the voice sounded in her head. **It's been over fifty years since I've had to Sort a Riddle.**

_My father?_

**Yes,** the voice confirmed. **You're like him, you know. I see much of him in you...**

_Really? Like what?_

**Let's see,** the Hat...said? **You've a sharp mind, that for sure... A great thirst for knowledge, worthy of any Ravenclaw.**

**But I sense something more. You've ambition as well. You can see the uses people can serve for you. Is that not why you've chosen to continue to associate with people like Draco Malfoy, someone who possess little personal interest to you? You want to stand out, you wish to be unique.**

A chill ran down her spine at the words that were not her own that ran through her mind. How could a commonplace object like a Hat see so deep into her mind that he knew the secrets of her mind? It fascinated and unnerved her, all at once.

**You've given me quite the conundrum,** the Hat admitted, **but don't worry! There hasn't been a single student who has entered this ball that I haven't been able to Sort! You will prosper in either Ravenclaw or Slytherin, that I am certain of, and you will gain notoriety where ever you go— it is in your blood after all!**

_My blood? What do you mean?_

**Some of the wizarding world's noblest blood flows through your veins, Bethany Riddle. Revered, feared, and respected... they've all had a reputation that has lived on long after they've died.**

Again, Bethany shivered. The words filled her with curiosity, with wonder, and with fear. How was it possibly that an orphaned girl had a family, had a blood line like the one he was speaking of? It seemed too wonderful to be true.

**You're making this a difficult process, Bethany Riddle!**

Whispers began floating though the Great Hall. Bethany managed to catch the words "hat stall".

**I suppose I'll offer you a choice,** the Hat finally said. **So what will it be, Bethany Riddle? Knowledge or Power? Family or Books? Respect or Success?**

_Well, that depends. It's hard to measure power and success— it's more or less a self definition. Obviously, family would come before books every time, but I haven't a family to speak of. I've only ever had books. And it can be argued that knowledge is its own power. So, really it ought to be your decision, as both options have their merits._

**An erudite response. I think that perhaps, in your time at Hogwarts, you shall learn a great deal, but I suspect that many more will learn from you. I think the best place for you is** "RAVENCLAW!"

The Ravenclaws clapped loudly as Bethany walked towards them. A boy with chestnut hair in the front waved her over. "I was watching the clock the whole time you were up there," he said, "You were up there for five minutes and twenty two seconds! The only hatstall of the year! Well, the only one so far!" He held out his hand. "Rodger Davies."

"Bethany Riddle. It's nice to meet you."

"Likewise. So what house was it thinking of putting you in instead?"

"Slytherin," She replied, taking notice of how he balked. Apparently, if unless you belonged to family like Draco Malfoy's, being a part of Slytherin was more of a badge of shame as opposed to a symbol of honor. "It mentioned something about how I had great ambition," she said, attempting to preserve his interest. "But I would expect that is also a valuable trait in Ravenclaws as well."

His genial expression had returned. "That's true," he observed, clapping once Lisa Turpin joined Ravenclaw as well. "It's a shame many of them choose to focus heavily on blood purity instead of bettering our world. I would imagine anyone with a Slytherin's ambition and keen eye could do real good. Then again," his lips curled upward in distaste, "I doubt many of them over there have any real brains. I suspect the one with true intellect come over to our side. Marcus Flint's a year ahead of me, and I doubt he has more than a couple of brain cells."

"I met a pair called Crabbe and Goyle on the train," Bethany revealed. "I swear I only heard a single word come out of either of them, the rest was all grunting."

Rodger laughed, and Bethany had a feeling that maybe Ravenclaw was the best place for her after all.

Ron Weasley finally stepped up to be Sorted, and the Hat only brushed his head before crying out, "GRYFFINDOR!" At this, Bethany started clapping.

"What are you doing? He's not in our house!" Rodger questioned.

"I knew he wanted to be a Gryffindor," Bethany said, "I figured I would cheer him on for getting the house he wanted."

After "Zabini, Blaise," joined Slytherin, a tall, elderly wizard stood at the podium. His white beard nearly fell to the floor. He reminded Bethany very distinctly of Gandalf.

"Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words, and here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!

"Thank you!"

Everyone applauded him. "Who was that?" Bethany asked Rodger.

"Professor Dumbledore, of course!" As he said this, food magically appeared in the middle of the table. Her mouth watered instantly. She had never seen such appetizing food in person before. "He's the headmaster," Rodger clarified as she scooped a mountain of mashed potatoes onto her plate.

Bethany ate until her stomach ached, and she readily followed her Ravenclaw companions through the castle. They reached the eagle door knocker, which asked riddles which needed to be answered to gain access. The answer to "What is a five letter word that become shorter when you add two letters to it?" was "Short" and was answered by several students at once.

Bethany collapsed upon a four poster bed in the dormitory, staring up at the blue canopy. For the first time in her eleven years of life, she felt as though she had found her home.

 


	4. Chapter 3: Fade Away Into Peace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I borrowed many quotes in this chapter from Harry Potter and Philospher's Stone in this chapter. Actually, I managed to condense the majority of the first book into this one chapter. I figured that if you wanted to reread the first book, you would just read the actual book. I only covered the highlights of first year, and the events I felt would be changed significantly by the presence of Bethany. Therefore, any time there is a line break in the chapter, it signifies a time jump.

**Momento Mori**

**Chapter Three: Fade Away Into Peace**

The brisk pace of Hogwarts was exactly the sort of thing Bethany had been searching for her whole life. Gone were the classrooms with harassed, tired teachers trying to teach noisy, uninterested brats the basics of algebra, and in their place stood accomplished professors who instructed interested students on how to levitate feathers or brew a fantastic potion. Not to mention, they had a choir, which Bethany was glad to be a part of. Sure, one of the requirements was to hold a toad, which was bizarre, but at least there was an opportunity for her to sing.

In many ways, it was overwhelming. She was practicing magic. Real magic. Things she had read about in fairytales and seen in countless movies, all at her fingertips. Nothing about this school was boring to her. Even the History of Magic class entranced her, even though Professor Binns, an old grey ghost, put nearly half the class to sleep with his lectures.

Her favorite class, however, was Potions. She seemed to have a true affinity for the art of potion brewing. Bethany wondered if it was an inherited ability from her mother. And it was further improved by the fact Professor Snape taught it, and would frequently award Ravenclaw with points.

The only class Bethany found that she disliked was Herbology. It wasn't that she had anything against the plants or Professor Sprout, but something about it failed to captivate her interest. That, and the fact that she didn't like her hands getting dirty. It didn't help that the class was one of the few Ravenclaw had with Slytherin. Obviously, there were exceptions to every rule, but nearly every single one of them was rude, entitled, and stuck up— namely, Pansy Parkinson. Bethany found herself loathing the girl, gritting her teeth as she heard the girl making unkind comments about Professor Sprout's weight while her friends laughed.

Draco wasn't much better. He would join in half the time, though he at least would pay attention, which was more than she could say about Pansy. He had barely interacted with Bethany since the Sorting. Bethany wasn't about to shed any tears about his lack of interest, but it was disappointing that he would dismiss her so easily for being sorted into a different House.

Ravenclaw and Gryffindor had only one class together, much to Bethany's dismay, but she always sat in the seat beside Hermione and in front of Ron and Harry. Hermione, who had all but memorized the textbooks, seemed to enjoy talking to her about a multitude of topics. Bethany would usually spend her time outside of class in the library, where she would either discuss her thoughts on whether or not there would be Potions quiz tomorrow with Hermione, or engaging in chats about everything else with Ron and Harry.

"She's not that bad," Bethany said, defending Hermione after Ron had declared her to be a 'tyrant'. "She's just passionate about school, that's all."

"Bethany, she yelled at the twins last night for laughing. _Laughing_!"

"Well, I think she's had a hard time making friends in the past," Bethany said, taking a seat at their usual table. "I mean, we only really ever talk about schoolwork. She just doesn't know how to make friends the proper way."

"You said the same thing about Malfoy," Harry observed, frowning slightly.

"Well, yes. I did. It's clear the only reason he has the friends he does is because of his father's influence," said Bethany, flipping open the textbook. "He honestly has poor social skills."

"You mean he's a jerk?"

"You're not wrong," Bethany said, thinking about how she had heard him mocking Lisa Turpin for her glasses the other day. "I think he really did try to be your friend, Harry, but his lack of self awareness, which is direct result of the environment he grew up in, allows him to state his opinions without thinking about the consequences or how others might feel."

A silence fell over the trio. "I think I'm going to need a dictionary to figure out what that meant," Harry teased, while Bethany laughed.

"You sounded just like Hermione!" Ron said with a shudder.

"I'll take that as a compliment. Hermione's very intelligent, after all."

"How is it that you see this stuff, anyway?" Ron asked, picking up his quill.

She shrugged. "I try to find the good in people. And usually, when it is difficult to find, I start to question why."

"Why on Earth did the Hat take such a long time to Sort you? I think the only person who was ever more of a Ravenclaw than you was Rowena herself!" Ron exclaimed, earning a pointed "Shush!" from Madame Pince.

"I had a lot of questions," Bethany glanced down at the book in front of her, avoiding all eye contact, "and we ended up having a rather long discussion."

Truth be told, Bethany didn't want to admit to her Gryffindor friends that she had been almost placed in Slytherin. The house had a horrible reputation, and judging by the students in Bethany's year, she could see why. She didn't want to be associated with people like that.

"How does this look?" Harry asked, pushing a piece of parchment towards Bethany. It was the latest Herbology assignment.

She glanced over it. "Seems alright," she said, confident he would pass, but certain Professor Sprout wouldn't be waxing on about the genius that was Harry Potter's essay on dried nettles. "You know, if you were a bit nicer to Hermione, I'm sure she could give you some more help. She's better at Herbology then I am."

Harry grimaced. "I'll pass, thanks."

Bethany merely shrugged and turned back to her own Herbology essay.

* * *

"It's not fair!"

The whine was punctuated by Draco as he began packing dirt into a clay pot. Bethany, who grimaced as she dug her nails deep into the dirt, turned around. Draco's entire face had gone pink with rage.

"It's horrible! He should have been expelled!" Pansy Parkinson sniffed.

Bethany frowned. "Sorry," she said loudly, setting her pot down at they looked up at her. "I couldn't help but overhear. What's happened?"

"Harry Potter's on the Gryffindor Quidditch team!" Draco spat.

Bethany bit back a smile that was threatening to form. She doubted she'd get anymore out of Draco if she made it evident that she was, Merlin forbid, happy for Harry. Still, she was confused. "But... I thought first years weren't allowed to play on the Quidditch teams?"

"Well, they're letting Potter play!" He said Harry's name as if it were a curse word.

Pansy, who seemed to determined to make Draco feel better, said, "Don't worry, Draco. You'll be on the Slytherin team next year. If Snape had seen you flying around, he'd have put you on our team." She stuck out her chin. "I bet they only gave it to Potter because he doesn't have parents! They just feel bad for him— I bet he got into a lot of trouble and played the pity card—"

Bethany felt a boiling anger spark within her. "Oh, really? Well, if that's case, maybe I should march up to Professor Flitwick right now and demand he put me on the Ravenclaw team, if that is the only qualification," She said conversationally, though her nails were digging into her palms. "But I don't know. I think Harry would rather have his parents than a spot on the Quidditch team, which makes me think that he probably got to spot based on pure talent!" With that, she spun around, forcing her plant into its pot with an intensity that had not been there before.

A monument or two later, she heard Pansy whisper, "She's sitting all by herself! No wonder she has no friends—"

"Shut up, Pansy," Draco hissed back.

The next time Bethany spotted Harry in the hallway, she sprinted towards him and gave him a hug before saying, "I just heard you're on the Quidditch team! Congratulations!"

* * *

"You can't be serious."

Bethany gaped at Ron and Harry with an incredulous expression. "Let me get this straight," she said, lowering her book. "Draco Malfoy challenged you to a Wizard's Duel—" This statement was directed at Harry, "which will take place tonight, and you—" her gaze shifted to Ron, "volunteered _me_ to be his second?"

"Sounds right to me," said Harry, who smiled weakly at her.

Bethany's voice became rather shrill. "What were you thinking? Why did you drag me into this? Why didn't _you_ volunteer yourself? You're from a wizard family for crying out loud, you know more about wizard duels than I do!"

"You're muh better at spells than I am," Ron insisted. "Besides, I'm coming with you both. For moral support."

"You _do_ realize that Draco is probably too cowardly to fight you and this is all probably a scheme to get you in trouble?"

"I don't think it is," Harry said. "He seemed really angry. I think he wants to fight it out."

She sighed, closing the book. "We could be suspended or even expelled if we get caught. You do realize that, right?"

"So are you saying you'll be there?"

Bethany looked at the two idiots standing in front of her. The idea of sneaking out after hours filled her with fear, but they were her two best friends. Had it been anyone else asking her, she would denied them on the spot. She sighed. "...yeah. What time will you be at the Ravenclaw dorm?"

* * *

Bethany was surprised to see Ron and Harry were accompanied by Hermione and Neville. "Don't ask," Ron said before she could even open her mouth.

Hermione, who seemed very cross, scowled at her. "Well, I am surprised to see that _you_ are a part of something as childish as this. I thought that _you_ at least had some sense."

Bethany, affronted by her sharp accusations, snapped, "Then why are you here?"

Before Hermione could respond, Harry interrupted. "There's no time for this. We'll be late. Come on, and try not to make any noise."

They arrived to the trophy room, the room where the duel was to take place, a minute or so later. It was empty, save for the glittering trophies. "See!" Bethany hissed. "I knew it! He's far too spineless to show up! Come on, let's head back—"

A loud meow echoed throughout the room. "Mrs. Norris!" Neville squeaked, earning shushes from Harry and Ron.

"Who's there?" The unmistakable voice of Mr. Filch asked the empty room. "Show yourselves!"

In a instant, all five of them ran blindly through the castle, not caring if Filch heard them or not. Harry seemed to lead the pack, followed by Ron, whereas Bethany and Neville trailed at the end.

"We've got to get to the dorms, quick—Bethany, do you reckon you can make it to Ravenclaw without us?"

Before Bethany could tell him that she _most certainly could not and they were the reason she was out of bed right now, so you had better help me,_ Hermione jumped in and said, "You know Malfoy set that up, right? He tipped Filch off, knowing you'd take his bait—"

"Let's go," Harry said, looking ashamed. Bethany shot Hermione a dirty look. It wasn't as if Harry wasn't aware that he'd made a mistake, and she didn't need to keep rubbing his nose in it.

However, things were about to be worst for the unlikely quintet. Peeves the Poltergeist was zooming about, happy to wreak havoc and draw attention to the rule breakers. They had no other choice but to run into a room expressly forbidden to them, where they found—

Neville opened his mouth to let out a scream, which Bethany stifled with her hand while Harry frantically groped around for the door knob. Staring at them was a three headed dog, with oversized fangs peeking out of its cheeks.

They found an empty hallway, to their relief. "What was _that_?" Harry exclaimed as they ran.

"Unless I am mistaken, we just met Cerberus himself!" Bethany responded, face ashen. She had always loved dogs, but she had never met one with three heads until now.

"Who?" Neville asked, pink cheeked.

"Cerberus!" Hermione began to explain. "He was the three headed dog of Hades, who guarded—"

She was interrupted by Ron. "Oh, shut it, Hermione!"

* * *

Harry figured the menacing dog they had met that night was protecting something— he remembered seeing a trapdoor or something of that nature with Cerberus. Bethany wasn't sure what to think. Maybe it was the dreamer in her, but she liked to imagine the canine was guarding the entrance to the underworld.

Halloween rolled around quicker than Bethany had anticipated it would. It seemed strange, not dressing up to go trick-or-treating. Dana would usually help them make costumes— simple things, like an old white sheet with holes cut out for eyes, or a black dress and a pointy hat with a broom.

It was strange to think that she had now seen witches and ghosts herself, real ones... in fact, she _was_ a real witch.

Suddenly, Hermione pushed past her, sobbing. "Hermione? Hermione!" Bethany chased after her, following her into the girl's bathroom. "What's wrong?"

"Go away!" Hermione cried out, voice muffled as if she was covering her face with her hands. "I don't want to talk to anyone right now!"

Bethany back away. "Alright...if you need to talk to someone, just come find me, okay?" With that, Bethany ducked out of the bathroom.

* * *

Hermione never reappeared. Whatever had happened, it had to be bad. Bethany tried not to think too much about it, and focus more on the feast before her.

Bethany was reaching for her cup of pumpkin juice when the doors were thrown open dramatically. Professor Quirrell ran in, shouting, "Troll! Troll in the dungeons!"

Complete and utter pandemonium broke out. Bethany heard Hannah Abbott's scream from the Hufflepuff table, and watched as Goyle began running towards the door. Dumbledore managed to soothe the crowd and instructed the prefects to lead the students back to their dormitories.

Bethany frowned, glancing at the Slytherins. _Aren't their dorms located in the dungeons?_ As much distaste she had for them, it didn't seem right to shove them where the danger was. Draco seemed to realize this as well and went pale.

Bethany was about to mention this to her prefect, Aurora Boot, when she saw Ron and Harry slip away from the Gryffindors... and head straight for the dungeons. _Idiots!_ Bethany made sure nobody was looking and ran after them.

"What are you two doing?" She demanded, catching up to them. "Are you trying to get yourselves killed? That's where the troll's at!"

"We're going to find Hermione!" Ron exclaimed. "Neville told us that she's been crying in the bathroom all day! She doesn't know about the troll!"

He was right... "I'll go find a professor!" Bethany said, breaking away and running off as fast as she could.

"Wait! Bethany! Bethany, hold on!"

But Bethany ignored them, rushing around trying to locate a teacher. Honestly, what were they going to do if they ran into the troll? Fight it off? They were eleven years old!

Bethany crashed into another figure. "Miss Riddle?"

It was Professor Quirrell, looking dazed and disoriented. "I'm sorry, sir!" Bethany gasped, "Ron and Harry are— Hermione—"

" _Riddle?_ "

Bethany stopped talking. A strange, siblilant voice had just spoke. It hadn't sounded like Quirrell, nor had his lips moved. "Sir, did you say something?"

Professor Quirrell grew pale. "What? No—"

" _Yes...of course you would be at Hogwarts now...you would be eleven years old. My, my time does fly. It seems like yesterday that you were a baby. You were so small..._ "

Her eyes darted around. Goosebumps had settled over her skin. The hallway was empty, save for the two of them. An uneasiness settled over her. "Professor Quirrell, is everything alright?"

Quirrell's eyebrow twitched. "Of course. Nothing is wrong," he said, more to himself than her. "What is it you were saying?"

" _He lies_ ," the unknown, unseen voice rasped. " _He knows I am upset, that I am keeping him out of the loop. He never told me there was a Riddle at school...you must not raise your hand in class, or else I would have heard of you by now. Now why is that? Surely, you must be a bright girl, if you have inherited any of your father's brains...or are you just too shy and timid, like your sniveling mother?"_

Bethany watched as Professor Quirrell's lips trembled. A bead of sweat fell down the visible part of his forehead. He wasn't the only one. She felt icy cold. How is it the voice knew she was too shy in many of her classes to raise her hand, for fear of being wrong? And why would it insult her mother so cruelly? "Sir," she said very quietly, "do you hear it, too?"

He shook his head once, a short jerking movement. " _He hears it_ ," the voice said, seeming to delight in the man's fear, " _but he doesn't understand. Only you can. Isn't that a curious phenomenon, Bethany?_ "

Bethany locked eyes with Quirrell. This was no fantasy, no _folie a deux_. Something sinister, something _evil_ was with them.

"Miss Riddle!" The sharp voice of Professor McGonagall rang out. Bethany saw the dark haired professor, followed closely by Professor Snape. "What are you doing here? You should be in your common room!"

"Professor— it's Hermione— Ron and Harry— they're in the girl's bathroom, by the dungeons!" She managed to gasp, still rattled to her core.

"Stay with us, Miss Riddle," Professor Snape said, "it's unsafe for you to wander the hallways alone."

The three professors and Bethany trekked to the bathroom, where they found an unharmed Ron, Hermione, and Harry, along with an unconscious troll. They were all scolded and reprimanded sharply, but Professor McGonagall awarded them a small amount of points for their valor and ability to fight off the troll successfully. "And fifteen points to Ravenclaw," Professor McGonagall added, "for seeking out a teacher, which is what should have been done in the first place."

* * *

After that, Hermione became a permanent fixture to their meetings in the library, something that pleased Bethany immensely. It was nice to finally have a female companion, and an intelligent one to challenge her intellect at that.

"It's very strange," Hermione said after Bethany shared the bizarre incident with Professor Quirrell. "And nobody else was there?"

"Nobody," Bethany reaffirmed. "It was awful though. It knew things about me. And it insulted my mother. I know Quirrell heard it too, whatever it was."

Harry pushes his glasses up his nose. "Are you sure it wasn't Peeves playing a prank?"

"I'm certain. Something was there, with us. And whoever it was, it was nobody good."

* * *

"I still don't think it was Professor Snape," Bethany insisted, gripping her book bag tightly. She was walking to the library with Ron to meet Hermione in the library. "He wouldn't do something like that."

"But Bethany, it had to be," Ron said. "Harry's broom went back to normal after he lost concentration."

Bethany glowered, recalling how Hermione had set his robes on fire. That particular move had driven a wedge between them, and Bethany had scolded her for it. "I still don't think it was him. It had to be a coincidence."

"I don't understand why you're defending him! He's a right git, especially to Harry!"

"He's smarter than that, though. If he really wanted to hurt Harry, he wouldn't have done it in a stadium full of witnesses," Bethany said, scowling. "And he's always been nice to me!"

Ron glowered. "You're just trying to protect him because he likes you!"

"Plenty of teachers like me," she quipped. "But Professor Snape is my favorite teacher." It was an opinion she knew was unpopular in her group of Gryffindor friends— and, to some extent, even in the Ravenclaw common room. It was something she never spoken out loud until this moment. "I know you don't like him, and you are entitled to your own opinion, but he's not so bad once you get to know him."

Ron shook his head, mumbling, "You're mental."

* * *

Christmas arrived to Hogwarts shortly after. Bethany was actually looking forward to it, for once in her life.

"I do feel sorry for all the people who have to stay at Hogwarts because nobody wants them at home," Pansy Parkinson chose to say loudly to Daphne Greengrass while walking behind Bethany after class.

Bethany grit her teeth. Ever since she had defended Harry for earning a spot of Gryffindor's Quidditch team, Pansy had made her dislike apparent for the other girl.

"And _I_ feel sorry for all the parents who have to deal with their unpleasant children who come home for the holidays, but are too polite to say anything," Bethany muttered under her breath.

* * *

_Bethany—_

_Meet us outside the Ravenclaw dorm at 12:30 tonight. I found something I want to show you._

— _Harry_

Bethany stepped out, dressed in her pajamas. Christmas had been yesterday, and one of the best ones to record. She spent the whole day in the Gryffindor common room with Ron, Harry, Fred, and George. She had even received real presents.

The first had been a lovely, hand knit sweater from Mrs. Weasley. She had made it blue, to match Ravenclaw's house colors, with a green B. "To match your eyes," Ron had explained, as she stared down at it with wonder. "She didn't have hazel yarn, though."

The second gift had been anonymous. Bethany hadn't even found it until later, when she spotted a small, tawny owl in her empty dormitory. A parcel, wrapped in green wrapping paper and tied with a white bow, was clasped in its claws. A small letter was attached around the owl's ankle, reading: _Happy Christmas._

She had ripped open the package only to find _Hogwarts, A History._

It was a curious mystery. At first, she wondered if it was Hermione, but then why hadn't she just written her a real letter? Not only that, but the handwriting wasn't Hermione. Her second theory had been Professor Snape, but again, the handwriting didn't match. Ron and Harry had been ruled out, so who could it be? The boys had teased her, saying it was secret admirer, but Bethany had ignored them. She was happy with the gift, nonetheless, and had been flipping through its pages greedily for the last day or so.

Bethany glanced about the hallway, searching for Harry and Ron. Nobody was there. Then—

"Psst!"

Her eyes followed the noise. Harry's disembodied head grinned at her. "Come here!" He said, more of his body being revealed, as well as the top of Ron's head.

"What?"

"Harry's got an Invisibility Cloak!" Ron explained. "Cool, huh!"

Her eyes lit up. "Really? Can I—"

"Get in! Quick!"

Bethany raced down, diving underneath the cloak. Miraculously, it seemed to swallow them up, rendering them completely hidden. "This is amazing," she whispered, "Where exactly are we going?"

"I found this mirror— it showed me my parents!" Harry told her excitedly. "I want to show you and Ron, so you can meet them!"

Soon enough, they happened upon a vacant room. Harry whipped off the cloak, standing in front of it. "Look! See! It's them! It's my parents!"

But Harry's parents were nowhere to be seen. Instead, a tall man with brown hair so dark it could be mistaken for black stood behind Bethany. He was older, maybe around age fifty, with dark brown eyes and pale skin. He twirled a thin wand lazily in his right hand, but his lips were curved up into a smile as he stared down at her.

On the other side of Bethany was a beautiful woman of average height, with thick, dark curls. Her hazel eyes seemed to gleam in the dark, and her delicate hand was placed on Bethany's arm. She was very tan, a stark contrast against Bethany's pale skin. Bethany knew, without a doubt, that these were her parents.

"Well?"

"What are you talking about, Harry?" Asked Ron. "I don't see anybody!"

"Here— stand right here—"

The boys squabbled as Bethany stared at her Mum and Dad. They seemed so unlike, but they seemed to be so in love— and they loved her.

But if they had loved her, why had they left her? Why had they sent her to an orphanage, to watch as tiny babies with chubby cheeks went to live with wealthy families while she sat alone in her room with only her books for company? Why hadn't they sent her to live with her father's relatives or one of her mother's sisters?

A lone tear drop fell from her left eye, streaking down her cheek. Bethany watched as her mother crouched down and wiped it away with her thumb before pressing a kiss to the forehead of her twin in the mirror. Her father withdrew an emerald green handkerchiefs and handed it to her, letting her wipe away the excess moisture.

But the real Bethany Riddle felt the tear cling to her jaw before falling off, and had only the back of her hand to wipe away the salty tears.

"I can't believe you didn't see them," Harry said for the umpteenth time to Ron. "They were right there! Bethany, you saw my mum and dad, right?"

She shook her head. "I think we had better go back, Harry," she said quietly. "I think this mirror is dangerous."

* * *

"I don't know why you're blaming me for all this," grumbled Draco as he stepped on a dry leaf left behind from the previous autumn. "If anything, you should be blaming that oaf, Hagrid—"

"Don't call Hagrid an oaf!" Bethany hissed back, not daring to raise her voice. She gripped Fang's leash tighter.

After Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Bethany had been caught sneaking around the castle after giving Norbert to Charlie's friends, they had managed to land themselves in detention. Draco, who had discovered their plans, had tried to catch them himself, had been given detention as well. Bethany was relieved that, for Hagrid's sake, she hadn't believed there was a dragon.

The one thing she was sorry about was dragging Neville into the mess. He had overheard them talking about it as well, and snuck out after hours. With no proof of Norbert, he believed he had tricked. Harry and Ron had told her he cried himself to sleep that night.

And so it happened that they were all serving detention in the Forbidden Forest, helping Hagrid search for some creature that was killing unicorns.

The idea of happening upon a dead unicorn tied Bethany's stomach in knots. She had never dealt well with death; the first time she had seen a dead bird laying in the courtyard at the nursery, it had unnerved, frightened, and saddened her all at once. She remembered running away from its tiny corpse, screaming and crying. The image hadn't left her mind for weeks. She knew, deep down, she should be more anxious about finding the killer, but the image of a bloodied unicorn was scaring her out of her wits.

Ron, Harry, Hermione, and Neville were all with Hagrid; nobody else had been willing to deal with Malfoy, so Bethany reluctantly split away from her friends to patrol with him. Hagrid had given them Fang for protection, but it didn't ease her nerves any.

"Well, what do you propose I call him, then?" Draco asked. "An ogre? He might not be full blooded, but I suppose he could be half—"

"Don't you ever stop?" She whispered. "Why do you have to be so—so— _mean_ all the time?" The words didn't have all vitriol that Bethany had felt, but perhaps it was her fear that was dampening her ability to express proper distaste. Bethany just let out a sigh. "Come on, then. Let's just look around some more."

"Don't you think it's mad, though? Dumbledore sending us out into the _Forbidden_ Forest?" Draco finally asked. "He goes and tells us we aren't allowed in it, then sends us to it for detention!"

"It's...unorthodox," Bethany admitted, eyes focused on Fang, who was sniffing the ground in front of them. "But... he wouldn't have sent us somewhere that was truly dangerous, would he?"

"There are werewolves out here, Riddle." Bethany gave a jolt when she realized he had used her last name. It was something she hadn't ever recalled hearing before. "I'd say we are in danger, and I don't think this mutt will serve as much protection."

"Be nice to Fang! He's a very good boy!" As if to prove her point, Bethany stopped and patted the dog on the head.

"Are you a dog person then?"

"I suppose you could say that. I like cats too, but I'm allergic. Why do you ask?"

He shrugged. "I'm just trying to make conversation."

The walked further into the forest, moving closer together as it grew darker and darker. "What do you think will happen if we find _it?"_ Draco whispered abruptly. "I think we should just run for it now. Leave them to deal with it."

"And let them think we've been killed?" Bethany asked, stepping closer to him, so close she felt their arms brush one another. "We can't do that."

A twig snapped. The pair froze, and Fang stared straight ahead.

Silence.

Bethany and Draco exchanged a dubious glance before nodding and taking another step. They resumed their previous pace, only they were now gripping each other's hands. "Not a word of this to anyone," Bethany hissed. She didn't know if she could deal with the expressions of shame on her friends faces.

"As if I would tell anybody!"

They walked further and further. It seemed as though perhaps they had imagined it, until—

A dead unicorn lay directly ahead of them, sprawled ungracefully across the ground. Silver blood dropped down its neck, and a cloaked figure bent over it, drinking the blood. The sight made Bethany's stomach churn. She felt as though she would vomit or faint or both...The figure ceased its disgusting task, jerking up to look at them.

" _What are you doing, Bethany Riddle? Shouldn't you be in bed?"_

It was that voice, the same voice she had heard in the corridor with Professor Quirrell. "Do you hear that too?" She whispered to Draco, her voice practically inaudible.

"What are you talking about?" Draco whispered back, his hand gripping tighter on hers.

" _It isn't safe out here...it is the_ Forbidden _Forest, after all... I doubt Lucius and Narcissa will be happy to hear Draco is out of bed as well..."_

Bethany gaped, stealing a glance at Draco, who was paralyzed in fear. He looked back at her, his eyes wide and an expression of pure terror on his face.

" _Go back to the castle, child. Speak of this to no one_."

Bethany didn't need the voice to tell her twice. Without hesitation, Bethany, Draco, and Fang began running for dear life. "Draco, send up the sparks!" She cried out as they swerved around a tree.

Draco groped about in his pocket until he withdrew his wand, screaming the incantation as loudly as he could and firing the red sparks into the air.

"What are ye doin'?" Hagrid asked as the saw them sprinting towards it. "What's teh matter?"

"Hagrid, we saw it!" Bethany babbled hysterically. "It was awful!"

"It was drinking the unicorn's blood!" Draco interjected, his pale face ashen.

A grave expression crossed Hagrid's features. "Let's get ye' back up to the castle."

They walked out of the Forest and back into Hogwarts, Bethany trembling the whole way back.

* * *

Bethany sat anxiously at the top of the trapdoor. Ron, Hermione, and Harry had gone down ages ago, it seemed. Fluffy, the three headed dog, slept soundly. She had offered to stay behind and make sure he wasn't awoken. She had sang one of the songs she had learned in the Frog Choir, which had caused his eyelids to grow heavy. "You have a really lovely voice, Bethany," Hermione said with a smile. "Thank you."

And they had all jumped down the trapdoor, leaving her behind to stand watch. In a way, Bethany was glad to stay behind; she didn't do well with danger, it seemed. But she also felt a sense of being left out, as she sat there alone. It was an aching, lonely feeling.

Trying to banish these melancholy thoughts away, Bethany leaned over and stroked Fluffy's middle head. The dog stirred sleepily. Really, she had come to take a liking to this dog, even if Hagrid had missed the brilliant opportunity to name him after Hades' three headed dog.

Ron and Hermione emerged suddenly, Hermione supporting a weak, bloodied Ron. "Oh my God, what—"

"Go get Professor Dumbledore!" Hermione exclaimed shrilly. "I have to take Ron to the Hospital Wing!"

Bethany nodded, shaken, and ran as fast as she could.

* * *

Harry explained everything to them once he awoke in the hospital wing, relatively unscathed. As it had turned out, Professor Quirrell had been living the entire year with none other than You-Know-Who himself living on the back of his head. He had been hidden by the purple turban that Quirrell had worn.

"It's a wonder you weren't killed," Hermione said, sniffling.

Bethany, who had also been distressed by Harry's story, blinked slowly. "So...if You-Know-Who was the one drinking that unicorn's blood, and if he was with Quirrell..." she trailed off. "My God... he was that voice I kept hearing."

A stunned silence fell over the four. "But why would You-Know-Who risk exposing himself by talking to you?" Hermione questioned.

"Why would he want to talk to me at all?" Bethany wondered aloud. "I'm just Bethany."

Nobody seemed to have an answer.

* * *

The Hogwarts Express pulled into King's Cross. Bethany felt a twinge of jealousy when she saw Ron waving excitedly to his parents and sister, but swallowed it down.

Before they clambered off the train, Hermione seized Bethany into a hug. "I promise to write you. All of you," she added, addressing Ron and Harry as well.

"Just try to send owls to me at nighttime," Bethany reminded them. "I don't need anyone at the orphanage asking me questions that I will have a hard time answering."

They all greeted each other farewell before Ron and Hermione rushed off to find their parents. Bethany glanced at Harry sadly, knowing he felt the same emptiness she did.

They pushed their trolleys through the wall and returned to the Muggle world for the first time in months. "See you next year, Harry."

"See you," Harry echoed, walking towards a car where a blonde, horse faced woman and a mustached man sat scowling.

Bethany located Dana's rusty old car, and she was greeted with a hug. "Now tell me all about your year, and don't leave anything out!" Dana said.

"Well... it was certainly magical."

 


	5. Chapter Four: My Second Self

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Numerous quotes from Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets by J.K. Rowling were used in this chapter. Chapter titles for the second year are taken from Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë.

**Momento Mori**

**Chapter Four: My Second Self**

**June 11, 1992**

_Dear Hermione,_

_How has your summer been going? Mine has been horribly dull, unfortunately. The most exciting thing that has happened so far is that I was able to check out some books from the library this weekend. So all together, not too thrilling._

_I wrote Ron last week. He told me all about how Percy got bit by a gnome and had to get his finger bandaged. I was picturing one of those things that look like tiny Santas that people put out in their gardens, but he explained to me that they are real creatures! It's so strange to me how Muggles have ideas of things that are a part of the wizarding world, because they usually have the same name but are completely different. I wonder if it all stems back to when wizards and Muggles lives together in society or if it is an issue of linguistics. Either way, I'm curious._

_Other than that, I haven't much to say, to be perfectly honest. Have you heard from Harry lately? I haven't received a letter from him yet. I'm quite concerned._

_Write to me as_ _soon as you can!_

_Love, Bethany_

* * *

**June 22**

_Dear Bethany,_

_Sorry to hear things aren't going well. I was telling Mum about how Dana was practically making you eat gruel, and she thought she would send some biscuits along._

_I hate having siblings sometimes. Mum made me go watch Ginny swim yesterday. She's convinced she'll drown, even though she has been swimming since she was six. But don't bother trying to tell Mum that!_

_The twins are starting to get on my nerves, too. So yeah, I'm ready for Hogwarts. Of course, I'm not looking forward to all the homework and essays and exams, but it'll be nice to see you, Harry, and Hermione again._

_I still haven't heard a thing from Harry. Do you reckon everything's alright?_

_-Ron_

* * *

**July 2**

_Dear Bethany,_

_Frankenstein is a fascinating book! I'm sure you'll love it; Mary Shelley was an incredibly interesting woman, as I am sure you know already._

_I must confess, I am glad you live in the Muggle world part of the time as well; I always feel ostracized whenever I make a reference to Shakespeare or even mention Coronation Street and I receive the strangest looks from Ron. Granted, it isn't often that I talk about Coronation Street. It's one of my Mum's favorite shows. But when I tried to explain it all to Ron, it took me nearly ten minutes to explain what soap operas were. As much as I love the wizarding world, they are a sheltered society. And Ron's family is more aware than most! I think I'll take Muggle studies next year, just so I can see just how pure blooded wizards and witches view non magical things._

_But back to my original point, I am so glad that you read so many of the books I do. I think I'm going to try and read a Steven King novel this summer; do you think I should? It isn't what I typically read but I sometimes think a challenge is necessary._

_I am worried about Harry too. I haven't received any word from him. Maybe somebody should check in with the school so that somebody can check up on him?_

_Love,_

_Hermione_

* * *

**July 4**

_Dear Professor Snape,_

_I apologize for contacting you in the summer, but I don't know who else to contact. You're the professor I feel most comfortable in addressing, and I am hoping you'll be able to help me out._

_This summer, Hermione, Ron, and I have all tried to contact Harry Potter. We haven't received back from him yet; Ron even had one of his owls come back. I know to anyone else this would seem like it's a clear sign Harry no longer wishes to associate with us, but I'm afraid it's something bad. Harry lives with his aunt, uncle, and cousin, and even though he doesn't talk about them very much, the three of us all have gotten the impression that they aren't very nice people. We're just worried that maybe they're hurting him in some way. Could you possibly address the issue with Professor Dumbledore?_

_Thank you,_

_Bethany_

* * *

**July 5**

_Dear Bethany,_

_Thank you very much for your letter. Indeed, it does sound like perhaps something is amiss. I will bring up the issue with Professor as soon as possible. Please do not hesitate to bring up anything else if you feel something is wrong. I appreciate that you feel comfortable to bring up these issues with me, and I hope you will continue to do so in the future._

_Sincerely,_

_Professor Snape_

* * *

**July 30**

_Dear Harry,_

_Happy early birthday! I know I haven't received any letters from you all summer, but I still hope all is well for you! I miss you, and I can't wait to be back at Hogwarts with you, Ron, and Hermione!_

_Love,_

_Bethany_

* * *

**August 3**

_Dear Bethany,_

_Alright, so the twins and I talking, and we've decided to go save Harry. Dad told us a couple days ago that he tried using magic. We think something really bad is happening with the Muggles, so we're going to take Dad's flying car tonight. Fred figured he'll be able to fly it just fine, and we're going to go up past the clouds so we won't be spotted._

_By the time you get this letter, we'll be gone, so don't bother sending us a letter trying to talk us out of it or yelling at us about it. I know you're not the type to do that, but I had to double check. I sent Hermione a letter, too, and I know she's going to lecture me. Oh well. We need to get Harry out of there._

— _Ron_

* * *

**August 3**

_Dear Bethany,_

_Have you received an owl for Ron? The boys are going to fly across the country in a flying car to rescue Harry! As noble as it is, I think it's rather foolish. What if they are seen? They could be thrown in Azkaban, or worse, expelled from Hogwarts! Their wands could be snapped! I think it's terribly irresponsible and absolutely ridiculous!_

_Love, Hermione_

* * *

**August 4**

_Bethany,_

_Sorry for the late reply. Ron told me that you and Hermione had been worrying about me. I thought I would write you and let you know I'm alright._

_The reason I haven't been responding to your letters is because a house elf named Dobby was stealing them. It's as bizarre as it sounds. I don't know if you know what a house elf is or not, but basically rich wizarding families use them to clean their house. Whoever his masters were, they didn't sound like pleasant people. Dobby kept saying they were evil, and then he bashed his head against my lap and yelled at himself. Anyway, this elf showed up in the my room at the Dursley's and told me that I couldn't go back to Hogwarts because something bad would happen and that he had been taking my letters so that I wouldn't want to go back._

_I'm sorry you were worried, but I'm alright now, I promise. I'm staying at Ron's house now, and I'm having a great time._

_Harry_

* * *

**August 4**

_Dear Bethany,_

_It was awful there. Fred, George, and I showed up to his aunt and uncle's house and they had bars over the window! I guess that house elf caused a lot of problems and that's why the Ministry ended up sending Harry the letter, and Harry's aunt and uncle decided to punish him for it! They were locking him up in his room and pushing food through a little slot in the door! It honestly makes me sick to think he's been stuck there all summer._

_Mum was furious, of course. She saw the car was missing and was waiting all night for us to come home so she could scream at us. Dad got after us too, but his heart wasn't into it. We didn't get in much more trouble than that, thank Merlin._

_He's at our house now and he's doing better, I think. Mum's worried he's too skinny, so she's making loads of food for him. I think Ginny's got a crush on him. She's talked about him nonstop all summer, but as soon as she saw him here, she went and ran away! How barmy is that?_

— _Ron_

* * *

**August 4**

_Dear Harry,_

_I'm so glad you're alright! Ron told me everything, and I hope you're doing better at the Weasleys! I asked Professor Snape (yes, I know, you don't like him and I'm not saying you have to, but I do) to have Dumbledore check up on you, and he said he planned on telling him. I'm going to send him another letter, if that's alright, explaining what happened. He genuinely wants to help, Harry._

_As a matter of fact, I do know what a house elf is. Draco told me that his family has three when we were on the train to Hogwarts. Of course, he didn't tell me that they made the elves call them "master" and whatnot. He called them "servants". From what you described, It sounds more sinister to me._

_Since you never got my letter, happy birthday! I wish I could send you a gift but I won't get any money until my own birthday, unfortunately. But when it does come, I'll definitely buy you something!_

_Love,_

_Bethany_

* * *

**August 4**

_Bethany—_

_You don't have to buy me anything. Spend that money on yourself. Honestly, I'll be happier if you don't get me anything at all. Besides, you could use that money to buy yourself a book or something. Please, don't worry about me._

_Do you reckon Dobby could be Malfoy's elf? Lucius Malfoy used to be one of You-Know-Who's followers. Thoughts?_

— _Harry_

* * *

**August 4**

_Dear Harry,_

_Please. The money I get for my birthday wouldn't even hardly buy a page of a book, let alone a full one. I usually just buy myself a chocolate bar, so expect that for yourself in 19 days._

_I suppose he could be one of the Malfoy elves, but I doubt it. I think Lucius Malfoy is trying to keep himself out of trouble, especially since You-Know-Who is gone. He probably wouldn't want to risk being arrested. And I imagine, it was Lucius's elf, it would be dangerous for him to run around all this time. My personal guess is that Dobby belongs to either the Goyles or Crabbes— I'm pretty sure they worked for You-Know-Who and if their sons are any indication, they're some slow-witted individuals who wouldn't notice where their elf was going. Then again, Draco said there are three elves, so it might be easy for one to slip out undetected. But then again, what do I know? This all speculation on my part._

_Love,_

_Bethany_

* * *

**August 7**

_Dear Professor Snape,_

_I just wanted to update you on Harry's condition. The Weasleys went and rescued him from his aunt and uncle's house and they were really mistreating him. They had bars on his windows, were only letting him out a couple times a day, and slid food through a small slot in his door. It's disgusting to me, honestly. I really think that Professor Dumbledore should hear about this and see about having Harry move somewhere else permanently. It's not right, and I hate that he was living like that for weeks without us knowing what was going on._

_Harry also told us that there was a house elf there that was preventing him from receiving his letters, and that house elf also used magic at the Dursley's. Is it at all possible for Professor Dumbledore to speak to someone on the Ministry and explain what happened so his record can be cleared? I know for a fact he didn't know what a house elf was before this all occurred._

_Thank you,_

_Bethany_

* * *

**August 8**

_Dear Bethany,_

_I will report this to Professor Dumbledore. Unfortunately, since there are no eyewitnesses besides Harry, it is unlikely the headmaster will be able to prevent this incident from going on his record. As long as he keeps his nose clean and doesn't perform magic outside of Hogwarts while he is under seventeen, Harry Potter should not worry at all about having his wand snapped._

_As far as the rest, I will tell the headmaster about the conditions Harry is living in over the summer holidays. I do not blame you for being distressed; it sounds as though it is a very difficult situation and I commend you for telling an adult._

_Sincerely,_

_Professor Snape_

* * *

The crowd began applauding as Gilderoy Lockhart beamed. "You can't be serious," Bethany heard Ron mutter beneath his breath. "He _can't_ be the new teacher. He'll be the worst!"

Bethany eyed the man's blond hair. "I don't know. It doesn't look like enough room on the back of his head to hide You-Know-Who."

Ron exchanged a grin with her. "Maybe he's got You-Know-Who trapped inside that obnoxiously large head of his. I suppose it would make for a better place than wrapped up in a turban. Quite roomy."

Bethany covered her mouth with her hand as she began snickering. Harry started returning to them. His face, flushed, betrayed his true feelings. "You can have these," she heard him say to Ginny, as he dumped the books into her new cauldron. "I'll buy my own."

"I bet you loved that, didn't you, Potter?"

The group turned around to see the sneering face of Draco Malfoy. He had grown taller over the summer, towering over Bethany by at least five inches. "Famous Potter," he drawled, "can't even go into a bookshop without making the front page!"

"Leave him alone, he didn't want all that!" Ginny exclaimed before Bethany could even open her mouth to defend Harry. It was shocking really; Ginny had hardly said two words in the time they had been Diagon Alley.

Draco let out an unkind laugh. "Potter, you've got yourself a girlfriend!"

"Wait, is that supposed to be an insult?" Bethany leaned over and whispered to Ron. "Not a very good one, is it?"

Ron let out a loud laugh, causing Draco to whip his head their direction. "Is something funny?" He asked, sounding irritated.

"Bet you're surprised to see Harry here, eh?" Ron asked, recovering well.

"Not as surprised as I am to see you in a shop, Weasley. I suppose your parents will go hungry for a month paying for all those."

Ron flushed and began stalking towards Malfoy, but Bethany, Hermione, and Harry all grabbed ahold of him. "Ron, it isn't worth it," Bethany whispered, though a part of her wanted to turn Ron loose on Draco.

"Ron! What are you doing? It's too crowded in here! Come on, let's go outside!" It was Mr. Weasley, making his way towards them with the twins.

"Well, well, well— Arthur Weasley."

Lucius Malfoy stepped forward, resting a hand on his son's shoulder. He hadn't changed a bit in the last year— however, Bethany sensed that instead of the friendly encounter that occurred between him and Professor Snape, there was likely to be conflict.

Bethany saw as Mr. Weasley's face twitched. "Lucius."

"Busy time at the Ministry, I hear. All those raids... I hope they're paying you overtime?"

Bethany watched as Mr. Weasley flinched. Lucius merely smirked and reached into Ginny's cauldron, pulling out her secondhand Transfiguration book. "Obviously not," he drawled, "Dear me, what's the use of being a disgrace to the name of wizard if they don't even pay you well for it?"

Anger welled up in Bethany. Though she had just met Mr. Weasley today, she knew that he and his wife were two very kind, loving people. They valued their family and the fact Lucius Malfoy was so focused on the material was disgusting to her. If it weren't for the meager sum of money her father had left her, Bethany would have had to purchase the secondhand books Ginny had today.

"We have a very different idea of what disgraces the name of wizard, Malfoy," Mr. Weasley responded, voice level, but his face an even darker red than Ron's.

"Clearly." His eyes flickered to where Hermione's parents stood. ""The company you keep, Weasley... and I thought your family could sink no lower."

Bethany's jaw dropped. How dare he? No wonder Draco was so cruel and bigoted... he had learned it at home, as she had suspected. Her eyes turned steely as she glared at Mr. Malfoy, disgusted.

Mr. Weasley, who had also clearly had enough of Lucius Malfoy's abuse, threw himself at the blond man and had pinned him on the ground. The twins tried to pull their father off the other man while Mrs. Weasley began screeching, but Bethany felt a sort of satisfaction as Mr. Weasley pummeled him.

Hagrid entered the shop moments later, managing to pull Mr. Weasley off Malfoy, who was utterly furious. The beginnings of a black eye marked his right eye; Bethany smirked upon seeing it. "Here, girl - take your book - it's the best your father can give you—" Lucius spat, handing Ginny her Transfiguration textbook back. With that, he and Draco strode out of the shop.

* * *

**August 23**

_Dear Bethany,_

_Happy birthday! I know you told us in Diagon Alley that you didn't want any gifts, but I couldn't resist! Here's a copy of Jane Eyre_! _You told me once last year that you wanted to read it someday, and so I bought in a book shop for you the other day! I hope you enjoy it; I haven't read it myself, but I would like to in the future. Let me know if it is worth the read!_

_Love,_

_Hermione_

* * *

**August 23**

_Bethany—_

_Happy twelfth birthday! I know we've already had this argument about birthday gifts before, but I didn't like the idea of not getting you something, especially since you are determined to give me a late gift. Since you said you usually buy chocolate, I got you a chocolate frog!_

_Hope you enjoy!_

— _Harry_

* * *

**August 23**

_Dear Bethany,_

_Happy birthday! I wish Fred, George, Harry, and I could fly Dad's car to the orphanage and pick you up to bring you here, but Mum nearly burst a capillary when Dad mentioned the car yesterday. I'd like to live another day, so I asked her to bake you some food. I know you prefer vanilla to chocolate, so there's a couple slices of vanilla cake. Hope you like it and have a happy birthday! Can't wait to see you at Hogwarts nearly a week!_

— _Ron_

* * *

**September 1**

"Where _are_ the boys?"

Hermione and Bethany had exchanged hugs, as well as excited greetings. They had boarded the trains, with Hermione informing her the boys would likely be on board the train soon enough. But much to the dismay of the girls, the train had pulled away, and so far neither girl had seen Harry or Ron.

"They have to be on here somewhere," Bethany said, leaning forward in her seat to peer into the hallway. Alas, all she saw were a group of Hufflepuff third years striding down the corridor.

Hermione frowned. "Do you think we should look for them? Maybe they found their own compartment?"

"Possibly?" Truthfully, the idea of knocking on the doors of each compartment sounded like nothing short of unpleasant to Bethany. "But maybe I should stay here with our stuff. You know, to make sure nobody will steal our stuff."

"You're right," Hermione said, hopping out of her seat. "I'll head out, then."

She departed, leaving Bethany to herself. For a fleeting moment, Bethany found herself regretting her decision. But the mental image of herself and Hermione aimlessly wandering the corridors while Hermione continually questioned people as to whether or not anyone had seen Harry and Ron only solidified her resolve to stay. As much as she adored and valued Hermione, she understood why many could be repelled initially by her personality.

So Bethany reached into her book bag and withdrew _Hogwarts, A History._ She still had no idea who had sent it: it wasn't any of her friends, but nevertheless she cherished the touching gift. All summer, Bethany had been reading and rereading the book, always gleaning new information that she had overlooked before.

Truthfully, she realized she ought to try and read more of _Jane Eyre._ After all, Hermione had been kind enough to give to her, and it was an enjoyable read. But Bethany always had the irritating habit of starting a book only to abandon it for one she had already read before.

While she reread the section devoted solely to the Ravenclaw common room, a knock on the door caused her to jump. Outside the corridor stood one of the twins, one hand in his pocket while he grinned. Bethany jumped up, sliding the door open. "Hello?"

"Hi, there," the twin said— Fred, she was assuming, based on the lowness of his voice— George's had been slightly higher last year...but then again... "I saw you were in here by yourself. You looked kind of lonely. I wondered if maybe you wanted to sit with George, Lee, and I?"

While part of her cheered for correctly identifying him as Fred, a large part of her resented the implication that she must be all on her lonesome. "I'm sitting in here with Hermione, actually," she said, not bothering to keep the chill from her voice. "She's just gone off to search for Ron and Harry. Have you seen them here, by the way?"

Fred shook his head. "They were with us when we came to King's Cross. I'm sure they're on the train somewhere." He tilted his head to the side. "What're you reading, then?"

"What? Oh, _Hogwarts, A History_!"

"Again? Don't you get tired of reading the same book over and over?" He asked.

"No, not really," Bethany said, resisting the overwhelming urge to scowl at him. "I learn something new every time."

"And you like that?"

"Yes, I do," she replied, not bothering to hide her growing irritation. "Knowledge is power, after all."

Fred grimaced. "Where did you hear that from? That sounds like a Slytherin sort of thing."

That sentence was the straw that broke the camel's back. Bethany knew, logically, that Fred had no idea just how close she had been to being sorted into Slytherin, but at the moment, she found herself ruled by her heart instead. "Haven't you got better things to do instead of judging me for my personal choices?" She flipped to the next page in her book. "And 'knowledge is power' is an _incredibly_ well known phrase in the Muggle world, I'll have you know!"

Fred blinked, seemingly in shock. "Sorry," he said with a shrug. "I wasn't trying to offend. I was just curious. I guess I'll show myself out—"

"Wait!" Bethany held a hand up. "I'm sorry. I was rude. I just...I don't know. I saw it as personal attack, I suppose." She smiled weakly. "You can stay."

Fred hesitated before shrugging. "I guess I'll stay for a couple more minutes," he said, almost to himself. He sat down across from her, where Ron and Harry were supposed to be sitting. "What's in that bag there?"

" _Jane Eyre._ " To further her point, she withdrew it and held it up for him to see. "It's a well known Muggle book. It was Hermione's birthday gift to me."

"How come you aren't reading that, then? You haven't read it already, have you?"

"No! I mean, I suppose I could, if I put my mind to it... but I don't know why, really. I like it a lot," Bethany began to ramble, her cheeks flushing as Fred leaned forward. "It reminds me of Harry's life, actually."

"Really?"

"Uh huh. You see, Jane is an orphan who lives with her cruel aunt and her awful cousins— by the way, one of them is slow witted and overweight, and he is the nastiest of them all— but her whole life changes when she moves to boarding school." She smiled, glancing down at her knees. "Granted, her school is nothing like Hogwarts and she doesn't even seem to like it all that much, but it's better than living with her aunt and cousins."

"Huh," said Fred, leaning back. "That's... strange."

"Isn't it?"

"Yeah." A silence fell over them. "Look... Ron told you about how we went to save Harry, yeah?"

"He did," Bethany said, shifting in her seat. The letter she had received from Ron detailing the cruelty Harry had suffered at the Dursleys had made her stomach turn. "It's terrible. I wish I had known before."

"I do, too. Then maybe we could have gotten him sooner." The grim expression on Fred's face was uncharacteristic, to say the least. It felt all wrong; Fred was usually smiling and making others laugh. To see him truly upset over something seemed wrong. "I know your summer was no walk in the park though, either. We should've flown there the same night."

"Oh, no!" Bethany insisted. "It's fine, really— Dana's not very attentive, but she does try and treat us right...and she's never put bars on any of our windows... even if some of them deserve it," she added quietly.

At this, his eyes lit up. A small thrill sparked inside of her. "What do you mean?"

Bethany felt her face grow hot. "Well, um, a couple of summers ago, Dana caught Gemma Campbell sneaking out of her window to go meet up with her boyfriend. He lived a couple blocks away, and she had been climbing out her window to stay the night at his house for weeks."

His red eyebrows shot up. "Well. Certainly makes for an interesting story, doesn't it?" He said with a grin.

She let out a shaky laugh and said, "Yeah."

Before she could come up with something more clever to say, Hermione slid the door open. "Fred! There you are! I just saw George and Lee, they said you were in the loo— listen, have you—"

"Seen Ron or Harry? Sorry, Hermione," he said, standing up and sliding his hands into his pockets. "They were with us when we came to King's Cross. That's all I know."

"Did it only take you that long to search the whole train?" Bethany asked, somewhat impressed.

Hermione seemed to deflate. "No, actually. I only went to a few compartments. Unfortunately, I stopped by Malfoys— and they weren't particularly pleasant."

"Don't listen to them, Hermione," Fred said as rage surged throughout Bethany. "Harry said Malfoy's sore that you beat him in every subject. He's probably jealous. Don't let it get to you."

"Yeah," Bethany echoed, immediately mentally kicking herself. " _Yeah"? Is that all I can say? Come on, Bethany. Can't you think of something more clever than that?_ "You're much smarter than him," she blurted out. _What's wrong with me? It's like I can't think straight!_

"I better get moving," Fred said, moving to the door. "Nice seeing you girls." With that, he left the compartment, and Bethany found herself confused.

* * *

"Is it true?" Bethany asked the next day, practically bursting from excitement as she approached Ron and Harry at the Gryffindor table at breakfast the next morning. "Did you really fly that car again?"

"Yeah," Harry replied, reaching up to scratch his neck while he grinned.

Bethany let out a loud laugh. When she had heard the rumors, she almost hadn't believed them, until she remembered Mr. Weasley's flying car. Even though Bethany realized that maybe she should be chastising them for such a thing, she found it too funny for words to describe. "Well, you really made an entrance!"

"Don't encourage them!" Hermione snapped. "They're proud of it."

"Oh, quit it, Hermione!" Ron. "It isn't as if we didn't for attention or anything, we couldn't get through the barrier!"

Several owls fluttered through the air, dropping letters and parcels and newspapers off to each student. An old, plump owl crashed onto the table, causing several people to shriek. "Oh, no..."

"What's wrong, Ron?" Bethany asked.

"Don't worry, he's still alive," said Hermione, who was focused on the owl who was slowly clinking to his feet.

"It's not that... it's _that._ "

Ron pointed to a red envelope. "So?" said Bethany, not seeing what there was to fuss about.

"What do you mean _so_?" Ron gaped at her. "She sent me a Howler!"

As Neville urged Ron to open it, Harry asked, "What's a Howler?"

Harry needn't have asked. Even as Ron explained that it was essentially a screaming letter, nothing could have prepared them for what lie inside.

"RONALD WEASLEY, HOW DARE YOU STEAL THAT CAR! I WOULDN'T HAVE BEEN SURPRISED IF THEY'D EXPELLED YOU, YOU WAIT TILL I GET HOLD OF YOU, I DON'T SUPPOSE YOU STOPPED TO THINK WHAT YOUR FATHER AND I WENT THROUGH WHEN WE SAW IT WAS GONE —"

Mrs. Weasley's shouts reverberated throughout the Great Hall. Students from every House were staring at Ron as his face began to turn red.

"— LETTER FROM DUMBLEDORE LAST NIGHT, I THOUGHT YOUR FATHER WOULD DIE OF SHAME, WE DIDN'T BRING YOU UP TO BEHAVE LIKE THIS, YOU AND HARRY COULD BOTH HAVE DIED —"

As much sympathy as Bethany had for Ron, it was at this point where she had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop herself from snickering.

" I AM ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTED — YOUR FATHER'S FACING AN INQUIRY AT WORK, IT'S ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT AND IF YOU PUT ANOTHER TOE OUT OF LINE WE'LL BRING YOU STRAIGHT BACK HOME."

The red envelope burst into flames and Ron buried his burning face into his hands. Bethany allowed herself a small laugh and began scanning the Great Hall. Much to her disappointment, Draco Malfoy and his group of cronies across the hall were roaring with laughter.

A minute or so later, Fred and George joined them, both seeming amused.

"Well done, ickle Ronniekins!" George said, sounding impressed.

"Yeah, we've never got a Howler yet!"

"You'll have to give us some tips!"

"Shut. Up."

"It'll be fine, Ron," Bethany said, trying to comfort him. "By the end of the term, I'm sure everyone will have forgotten about it."

"I doubt it," he said with a scowl. "And don't think I didn't see you laughing!"

Embarrassed, Bethany said, "I'm heading to the Ravenclaw table now. See you in class later!"

"Bye Bethany!" George called out as she walked away. She couldn't help but feel... well, disappointment... she was rather hoping Fred would at least say something to her...

_Wait, what?_ Bethany shook her head.

Bethany picked at her breakfast before heading off to class, she had the misfortune to end up walking behind Draco and his band of imbeciles.

" _If you put one more toe out of line—_ " Draco initiated in a shrill voice before bursting into laughter while Crabbe and Goyle guffawed. Pansy let out a grating giggle, which made Bethany all the more irritated.

"It's not that funny, you know," she said to Draco, momentarily stopping their laugher while she stalked past them.


	6. Chapter Five: A Horror I Could Bear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any recognizable quotes come from Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets by J.K. Rowling.

**Momento** **Mori**

**Chapter Five: A Horror I Could Bear**

_1\. What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favorite color?_

_2\. What is Gilderoy Lockhart's secret ambition?_

_3\. What, in your opinion, is Gilderoy Lockh_ _art's greatest achievement to date?_

_4\. What was the name of Gilderoy Lockhart's first Crup?_

_5\. If you had to pick one adjective to describe Gilderoy Lockhart, which would you choose? Explain your answer._

_6\. What is Gilderoy Lockhart's middle name?_

The list went on and on. Bethany stared at the parchment in front of her with a mixture of shock and disgust. What did these questions have to do with defending oneself against the dart arts?

Begrudgingly, she picked up her quill and began writing in answers. She answered lilac for the first question, eradicating all magical diseases for the next, slaying a vampire for the third, and Maximillian for the Crup. When it came to the fifth question, everything within her wanted to write "pompous", but her resolve to receive good marks stopped her. As much as she hated to do it, if she appealed to ego, he would be much easier to receive favors from and would only have good things to say about each other. So she wrote: " _Humble. Even though Professor Gilderoy Lockhart has faced off against many treacherous foes, he never brags about it._ " It felt awful, writing down blatant lies, and she hoped it was worth it.

At the end of class, Lockhart stood up at the front of the room. "Now," he started, "Just between us, but I have a feeling this will be one of my favorite classes. I was a Ravenclaw myself, as you all know, and this particular group of Ravenclaws exemplifies the traits Rowena prized most! Nearly all of you knew my favorite color was lilac, that my mother's maiden name was Greene, and that my favorite holiday destination is Barcelona!" He smiled at them all. "But one student in particular excelled at this quiz and only missed one question!"

Bethany sat on the edge of her seat, leaning forward. She had felt confident of her answers; as ridiculous as his quiz was, it had been simple. As much as she abhorred him, this could help her if she ever found herself in a jam and needed a professor's help— well, besides Professor Snape's.

"Where is Terry Boot?"

Bethany tried not to feel disappointed as Terry raised his hand. "Ten points to Ravenclaw! Just so you know, my favorite yogurt flavor is blueberry, not strawberry, but well done nonetheless! And five point to Ravenclaw for these wonderful test scores! You did far better than the Gryffindors did, only Hermione Granger scored well in that class! Answered _every single_ question correctly!"

Bethany slumped over her desk. Of course Hermione had the best score. As happy as she was for her friend, she couldn't help the sting of jealousy that welled up inside her. "Now, class, open up your books to page 37 in your first textbook, where we shall _read_ about Cornish pixies!" Lockhart announced. Bethany picked up the book, flipping through the pages.

* * *

"I don't know if you should be in here," Bethany heard Hermione whisper across the library. She looked up to see her friends walking into the library. Harry was still dressed in his Quidditch gear, and Ron was pale with sweat clinging to his forehead.

"I think I'll be fine. The worst of it is over," Ron whispered back.

Bethany closed her book, grabbed her bag, and walked toward them. "What's going on? Is everything alright? I thought Harry was at practice!"

Hermione's lips pressed together while Harry said, "There's been a change of plans."

"What? How?"

"Malfoy's the new seeker for Slytherin," Ron said darkly. "Snape gave the team permission to use the pitch instead of Gryffindor."

"Oh," was all Bethany could manage. Well, good for Draco, she supposed. She doubted he stood as a significant threat to Harry. But she sensed there was more to the story. "Did something else happen?"

"Well, Malfoy was being nasty—"

"Of course," Bethany nodded. "Sorry. Continue, Harry."

"—and Hermione pointed out to him that the only reason he got to be on the team was because his father bought everyone new broomsticks, and he...he called her a really foul word."

Bethany's mouth fell open. "Was it... was it, um, M-U-D-B-L-O-O-D?" She asked quietly.

"How do you know that word?" Ron demanded, blinking in surprise. "He hasn't called you that, has he?"

"No," said Bethany. "I'm a pureblood. He knows that. No, I know it because he said it that time I met him in Diagon Alley." Bethany then proceeded to tell them about the whole unfortunate incident. "I'm sorry, Hermione," she said, when she finished. "You don't deserve that."

Hermione gave her a small smile. "Thank you, Bethany. It...it hurt, but I think Ron ended up suffering the most."

Bethany gave him a quizzical look. He smiled weakly and explained, "My wand. I tried to curse Malfoy to barf up slugs and...well—"

"Oh, no, I'm sorry, Ron!"

"You really didn't have to do that for me," Hermione told him quietly. "It's just a silly word—"

"It's a foul word," Ron interrupted, seeing to regain some strength. "And of course I did. You're my best friend."

Unless Bethany was mistaken, a pink hue began making itself apparent on Hermione's cheeks. She glanced over to Harry, to see if he had seen it as well, but he was examining a grass stain on his uniform. She raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

* * *

"Bethany! Hey, Bethany!"

It was nearly time for dinner when Ron flagged her down. His eyes were widened with excitement. "Come here! Quick!"

"Ron, what is it?"

"I found something! Come on!"

Sighing, Bethany followed him. Dinner would have to wait, even as hungry as she was. Ron lead her down the hallway, towards the trophy room. "I was serving detention for Snape, of course, and then I had another slug attack—"

"Oh, no, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Ron answered. "But I managed to belch onto one of the trophies, so I had to wash it off again and— look!" He pointed to a brass plaque, with tiny engraving.

Bethany leaned closer. _Special Award to Services for School: T.M. Riddle. Awarded in 1943._

Bethany stared at it. "Is it your Dad's then?" Ron asked excitedly. "Or is it your Grandad's? His name was Tom Riddle too, right?"

"Yeah," said Bethany, "But this has to be my Dad. He was a lot older than my Mum." She reached out, tracing her fingertips over the letters. _Special Services to the School._ What did that mean?

She turned around, beaming. "Thank you so much, Ron!" Without warning, she threw her arms around him. "You're the best!"

"It was no problem," he replied, but Bethany disagreed. It was a big deal to her, to have concrete evidence that her father had roamed the halls of Hogwarts, just like she was now. A few moments passed. "Er, Bethany?"

"Yes?"

"I think you might want to let go. I don't think the slugs are finished with me yet!"

"Oh!" Bethany withdrew from him as if he were on fire as Ron heaved another pile of slugs onto the floor.

* * *

Bethany walked back from dinner, dragging her bag alongside her. Glancing around the halls, she hurried into the trophy room, to look at the award for _Services to the School._

It sat where she had left it, but it was as fascinating to her as it had been hours ago. Her father had done something wonderful to help the school. She was legacy of something amazing.

Not for the first time, Bethany wondered what he was like. Mr. Ollivander has said she looked like him, but what did that mean? Professor Snape Said she resembled her mother.

Was he a skilled wizard? He had a powerful wand. Had he enjoyed studying at the same table in the library as her? What house had he been in? Had he owned an owl or a cat? Was he captain of the Quidditch team? Had he been prefect or Head Boy? Had he worn glasses or not? There were so many questions with very few answers.

Maybe the thing most puzzling to her was how her parents had fallen in love. While it certainly wasn't unheard of, it was uncommon for a woman in her twenties to marry a man thirty years her senior. The usual answer to that question would be 'money', but Professor Snape had said he worked retail and given how much money was in the vault at Gringotts, he hadn't been rolling in riches.

Maybe it really had just been love.

" _Rip... tear... kill..."_

Bethany froze, her happy dissipating. She spun around the trophy room, somehow even more disturbed when she found herself alone. "Who's there?"

" _Must eat...must kill..."_

Bethany was silent, horrified. Before she could think about anything else, Bethany began sprinting through the halls. She had to find someone, somebody would die and it would be her fault—

At last, down a hallway, she saw Professor Snape walking the opposite way of the hall. "Professor!"

He turned around to face her. "Bethany—"

"I just heard a voice in the trophy room— it said it was going to kill somebody—"

Professor Snape rushed down the hallway, reaching for his wand. "Whose voice was it?" he asked, intently making his way to the trophy room. His gait was so fast that Bethany was jogging to keep up with him.

"I don't know, sir. I didn't recognize it. It just kept saying it wanted to hurt and kill people—"

"Stay with me, Bethany. It is not safe for you

to wander around alone."

Bethany nodded, stepping closer to the headmaster. They eventually entered the trophy room, wands drawn. Bethany saw her own wand shaking as her hands trembled. She lowered it, glancing around the room.

"Show yourself!" Professor Snape commanded, and his voice echoed throughout the empty room. Silence greeted them. Bethany sensed whatever she had heard was gone, but she still felt a chill in the air.

"I don't hear it anymore, sir," Bethany said, eyes darting around anxiously as if she half expected an ax murderer to jump out behind a corner.

Professor Snape nodded, but said, "We ought to stay vigilant and search. The threat may not be gone yet."

They patrolled several hallways before they concluded whatever had been there was gone now. "I believe we may be safe now, Bethany."

"Thank you, sir." Her features were ashen, causing the light dusting of freckles across her cheeks and nose to become more visible. Her entire body had broken out into an anxious sweat.

"Would you care to talk about what you heard? It might to do you good, and put your mind at ease."

If it had been any other professor, she would have forced a smile on her face before saying 'No thank you'. But Professor Snape knew more about her than most professors. So she found herself nodding and replying, "Yes, please."

This was how they found themselves in Professor Snape's office. "Why were you were in the trophy room in the first place?" He asked as he sat down at his desk.

Bethany wiped her sweaty palms on her robes. "Ron found a plaque when he was serving detention. It was for an award my father received when he was in school. He showed to me afterwards. I just wanted to see it again. I don't know much about him," she said, picking nervously at her fingernails.

"I don't know," she confessed. "I just...didn't. It seemed like a stupid reason to be there, anyway. Especially when somebody was trying to kill." She shrugged. "I didn't think it would hurt anybody.

"Has this been the first time you've heard this voice?"

She nodded, embarrassed as she felt tears welling up in her eyes. "It scared me," she said, hating how childish she sounded. Honestly, it was no wonder she hadn't been sorted into Gryffindor.

But Professor Snape did not deride her for her perceived cowardice, merely nodding and saying, "Understandably."

She gulped. "Professor... there's something I didn't tell you. Or anyone else besides my friends." Bethany wiped a tear that was leaking from the corner of her eye. "You-Know-Who spoke to me twice last year. And I don't know why."

A long pause filled the office, threatening to suffocate her. Bethany glanced up, only to see the professor staring off at the wall with incredulity. "He spoke directly to you?"

She nodded. "And he knew who I was. The first time was when—" she sniffed, "—Professor Quirrell let the troll loose, and I went looking for help and found him. It was scaring Quirrell but You-Know-Who told me only I could understand him. And then when he was in the Forbidden Forest, he tried talking to me again. And I don't know why! What does he want to do with me?"

"Perhaps he senses great potential in you," Professor Snape said quietly. "You did well in Professor Quirrell's class, yes?" When she nodded, he said, "Then it is likely he assumed you might serve as an asset for his side."

His response didn't seem quite right to Bethany, but she ignored it. She doubled the professor had any more idea than she did about the matter and was just trying to make sense of it the best way he knew how. "He said something about my mum, too," she told him quietly. "It wasn't very nice."

"Pay no heed to what he said about your mother. She was a wonderful woman, Bethany," Professor Snape said seriously. "I know they— several of her views differed from the Dark Lord's. It was something he resented."

"I don't think I want to talk about this anymore, Professor," she said, wiping her eyes again. Just thinking about his hateful words was making her feel ill.

"Of course," he said, leaning back in his chair. "Is there anything else of a lighter matter you wished to discuss?"

Bethany thought about it before asking, "Can you tell me more about my parents?"

The professor did not seem to respond at first, but then nodded. "I suppose that is something that can be arranged.

"Your mother belonged to the house of Shafiq. She had a father, Horus, which I know you are aware of, and two older sisters, Valencia and Idris. Her mother was a Spanish witch called Catalina Alvarez, who died the year Delilah came to Hogwarts.

"Many admired her, as I have told you before. Her gift for potions was like no other. But she was covered and adored most for her beauty. Her father was the proudest of her, saying that she was his pride and joy.

"I believe your mother was in only one serious relationship before she began seeing your father. She dated Rabastan Lestrange on and off throughout her fifth and sixth years. Rabastan graduated before she reached her seventh year. I believe he always thought that perhaps they would continue where they left off— but then she met your father."

She smiled at this. "How did they meet, Professor? Do you know?"

"I am afraid I do not," replied the professor. "As I have said, I was four years younger than your mother, and decades younger than your father. All I know is that any time I saw her after she had graduated Hogwarts, she was by his side."

Bethany smiled. It sounded extremely romantic. If they had been alive, she wondered if she would find it as sweet as she did, or if she would be repulsed by any displays of affection between them. Sensing he had no more to say, Bethany said, "Thank you, professor."

"You are very welcome."

* * *

_The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the Heir, beware._

The chilling words were written it streaked scarlet. The faint iron scent clinging to the air made it known it was blood. The limp body of Mrs. Norris hung from the wall. "Oh, God," Bethany whispered, unable to tear her eyes away from the gruesome scene. Her stomach clenched up, and tried her best not to heave. She could still hear the awful words ringing through her ears: " _Rip... tear... kill... I smell blood... I SMELL BLOOD..."_

"Shouldn't we try to help?" Hermione asked, stepping towards the cat.

Ron grabbed for her hand. "Trust me. We don't want to get caught here—"

The echoes of hundreds of footsteps and excitable student chatting amongst one another interrupted them. "The feast must have been let out!" Bethany said shrilly. Her heart hammered inside her chest.

Students poured from the corridors, their laughter silenced by the horrifying sight that greeted them. Bethany thought she heard a first year let out a cry.

"'Enemies of the Heir, beware.' You'll be next, Mudbloods!" Draco crowed, sneering at Mrs. Norris.

What followed next was utter pandemonium. Filch emerged from the crowd, distraught by the state Mrs. Norris was in. The crowd subsided, finally leaving only them and the professors.

Much to Bethany's relief, it was revealed that Mrs. Norris was petrified. Filch immediately blamed Harry for it, but Professor Snape jumped to his defense. "I sincerely doubt that Mr. Potter would be so foolish as to petrify your cat when he had three witnesses."

"They're in on it, too!" Filch accused, tears streaming down his face. "Always up to no good—"

"Nonsense," proclaimed Professor Snape. "Bethany Riddle is one of the most trustworthy students I know. I am certain, had she more time, she would have fetched a professor to come and save your cat."

"I also suspect this is an unfortunate incident in which these four students were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time," agreed Professor Dumbledore. "However, I am very curious as to know why they were wandering the hallways instead of joining the rest of us at the feast." His gaze seemed to lock on Bethany, causing her to hastily look away.

"We went to Nearly Headless Nick's Deathday party, sir," Hermione replied.

"There were hundreds of ghosts, they'll tell you we were there—" Ron offered.

"But why didn't you return to the feast? What caused you to choose that corridor?"

Bethany was about to explain when Harry cut her off with, "We were tired and we wanted to go to bed."

Dumbledore turned back to Bethany. "Is there anything else you would like to tell me, Bethany?" He asked.

_Yes,_ she thought. _I heard that horrible voice again, and Harry heard it to, and it said it smelled blood—_ "No, sir."

Dumbledore stared at her, his gentle blue eyes stony. Bethany squirmed. "Very well," he said finally. "If that is all you have to say, then I believe it best that the four of you turn in for the night."

Bethany nodded and rushed out, feeling dizzy and sick all at once.

* * *

"It can't be Draco."

"What do you mean?" Ron asked, carrying a stack of books through the corridors to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. "Of course it's Malfoy! You heard what he said! 'You'll be next!'"

"Obviously, he said that. But that doesn't mean he is guilty," said Bethany. "Personally, I doubt a twelve year would be powerful enough to open up the Chamber. My guess is that it is an older Slytherin."

"Then why are you going along with this whole Polyjuice Potion thing if you think it's useless?"

"I don't think it's useless," she insisted as they entered the bathroom. "I just don't think it's Draco. But this plot will get us into the Common Room, one way or another. We can investigate any other potential suspects. And I also just want to try and brew Polyjuice potion," she shrugged. "It sounds like fun."

Ron shook his head as they sat the places in a dry corner. "You're mad," he declared. "And Malfoy goes on and on about the Heir all the time! If it isn't him alone, then he's got to be helping!"

"That's where you're wrong," said Bethany. "If it were Draco and he was involved with the Chamber, he would be doing the opposite and not speaking of it at all. If I were the Heir of Slytherin, for example, I think it would be in my best interests to let somebody else laud over how great it is that Muggleborns and cats are being petrified while I carried out my plans undetected."

Ron just shook his head again. "I still think it's Malfoy," he said.

Bethany shrugged. "Just don't be upset when I remind you that I told you so."

* * *

Ron, Bethany, Hermione, and Harry filed in to the Great Hall. The school had announced there would now be a dueling club. The four of them figured, now that there was another threat inside the school, they might as well go.

Much to Bethany's disappointment, Gilderoy Lockhart was the instructor. "Why didn't they have Professor Flitwick do it?" Bethany whispered to Hermione. "He was a dueling champion!"

"Well, Professor Lockhart has experience, too! You've read all his books!" Hermione defended.

Bethany resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Hermione, she suspected, fancied Lockhart.

Much to her relief, Professor Snape was there as well, looking absolutely disgusted by his companion.

"Gather round, gather round! Can everyone see me? Can you all hear me? Excellent!" Lockhart beamed. "Now, Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little dueling club, to train you all in case you ever need to defend yourselves as I myself have done on countless occasions - for full details, see my published works. Let me introduce my assistant, Professor Snape," he turned to the other man. "He tells me he knows a tiny little bit about dueling himself and has sportingly agreed to help me with a short demonstration before we begin. Now, I don't want any of you youngsters to worry - you'll still have your Potions master when I'm through with him, never fear!"

Bethany crossed her arms, letting out a loud sigh. Both Lockhart and Professor Snape bowed—well, Professor Snape did more of a nod— before raising their wands up. As they reached the count of three, Professor Snape shouted, " _Expelliarmus!_ " which sent Lockhart and his wand flying backwards.

"Do you think he's alright?" Hermione asked over the sounds of the Slytherins cheers, not taking her eyes off Lockhart's crumpled form.

"I'm sure he's fine," said Bethany, already annoyed.

Soon, Snape and Lockhart were partnering them up. Ron was with Seamus, Hermione got stuck with Millicent Bullstrode, Bethany was paired with Justin Finch-Fletchy, and beside them stood Harry and Draco.

"And bow!"

Bethany bowed, giving him a small smile. "One..." Lockhart counted. "Two..."

" _Rictumsempra_!" Harry yelled, casting the jinx on Draco, who doubled over laughing. Around them, chaos erupted.

Soon, Professor Snape and Lockhart decided to have a pair of students duel in front of everyone. Naturally, it was Draco and Harry who squared off.

"One...two...three!"

" _Serpensortia_!" A snake shot out across the room, landing on the ground in a heap. Several students screamed, including Justin.

"Don't move, Potter, I'll get rid of it," Professor Snape said.

"Allow me!" Lockhart pointed his wand at the snake. A loud bang sounded and the snake was blasted into the audience, much to the horror of the other students. Bethany, however, watched the obsidian snake wind about, it's scales seeming to glitter. It spotted Justin, sensing his fear, and aimed, ready to strike him.

" _Leave him alone_!" Harry bellowed, causing the snake to lower itself _._

"What do you think you're playing at!" Justin shrieked, eyes fixed on the snake.

Sensing something bad would happen unless she acted, Bethany crouched down, murmuring, " _Come here_ ," to the snake. He looked at her with surprise, but slithered over, where she picked him up. Cradling the snake with great care, she carried him over to Professor Snape. The professor gave her a shrewd look before vanishing the snake.

"Come on—" Bethany felt Ron grab the sleeve of her robes and drag her out. Harry, she could see, was being pulled out as well.

"How come you never told us you were a Parselmouth?" Ron exclaimed, staring at Harry.

Bethany gave a start. Harry, however, looked at Ron blankly. "A Parselmouth!" Ron repeated. "You can talk to snakes!"

"Yeah, I know," said Harry. "I mean, I mean, that's only the second time I've ever done it—"

"You can talk to snakes, too?" Bethany asked him excitedly.

"Wait— What do you mean, _too_?" Ron stared at her incredulously.

"I'm a Parselmouth," Bethany stated. "Didn't you hear me when I picked up that snake?"

"I didn't hear _you_ ," said Hermione, who still appeared to be stunned by these newfound revelations, "but I heard Harry."

"It doesn't matter, I suppose," Bethany shrugged. "I mean, it's good that Harry spoke up in time and told the snake to leave Justin alone, but—"

"Oh, that's what you said to it?" Ron interjected.

"What d'you mean? You were there - you heard me—"

"I heard you speaking Parseltongue. Snake language. You could have been saying anything— no wonder Justin panicked, you sounded like you were egging the snake on or something— it was creepy, you know—"

Harry stared at Ron with amazement. "I spoke a different language? But— I didn't realize— how can I speak a language without knowing I can speak it?"

"It's weird," agreed Bethany. "I didn't even realize I was doing it, for a long time. But then one of the girls at the orphanage caught me talking to one in the garden and told everybody about it. It sounds just like English to me."

Hermione had been silent for a while, staring down at her lap. Ron looked paler than usual. He said, "Listen, I know you're both glad and all to find someone like you, but this is _bad._ Like really bad."

"What's wrong with it?" Bethany asked. "When I told Professor Snape, he acted the same way! We can just talk to animals— and besides, Harry was helping Justin, and I would have too—"

"Because Salazar Slytherin was a Parselmouth as well," Hermione said, her expression somber. "That's one of the things he was most famous for. Why do you think the symbol of his house is a serpent?"

Bethany felt her blood chill. "Oh."

Ron agreed, "Exactly. And now the whole school's going to think Harry's his great- great-great-great-great grandson or something."

"But I'm not!" insisted Harry.

"That will be hard to prove. He lived thousands of years ago," Hermione pointed out. "For all you know, you could be."

That night, Hermione's words echoed inside her head. _For all you know, you could be._ They refused to leave her, haunting her until she fell into a listless slumber.

* * *

Bethany felt her stomach churn as Professor Sprout began her lecture. This was it... this was the last class before Christmas break. She only had this one chance.

"Why are we even bothering with this?" Bethany heard Pansy Parkinson whine to Daphne Greengrass as Professor Sprout explained the Mandrakes they were growing were to help the petrified students in the Hospital Wing. "They're just Mudbloods! Once the Heir takes over, he'll finish them off for good, anyway!"

This was it. This was her opening. Bethany wiped her sweaty palms on her robes. As much as she detested Pansy, she had been dreading this. Confrontation was not one of her strong suits.

She spun around, attempting to take her most confident stance. "Why don't you just shut up, Pansy? Nobody wants to hear your blabbering anyway!" When this provoked nothing more than an incredulous stare, Bethany continued with, "You're so pathetic, always trying to say things you think will impress people, when nobody wants nothing to do with you. And who would? You're an ugly, foul—"

"Watch your mouth!" Pansy shrieked. "How dare you? You're a jealous, filthy Mudblood who—"

"Miss Parkinson!" Professor Sprout gasped.

"I hate to disappoint you, my mother was a Shafiq, a surname in which I think should ring a bell to someone like you. But then again, all those centuries of inbreeding must have not only affected your looks but your brains as well!"

In a fit of rage, Pansy reached into a flower pot and grabbed a handful of dirt, chucking it at Bethany. "SHUT UP!"

Bethany narrowly dodged it, which unfortunately meant Su Li took the hit, marking her robes with a dusty brown spot. "Very witty response, did you spend all day thinking of it?"

"Curse her, Pansy!" Millicent Bulstrode shouted from the back as Professor Sprout began moving to the back of the greenhouse. To the left, Draco Malfoy stood, watching the scene with great amusement.

Bethany realized she had to act fast, before Sprout made it back there. It was time to say what she knew would spark a reaction. "Oh, and Pansy? Stuffing your bra isn't going to impress Draco any!"

Several people gasped with shock, whereas others laughed. Pansy, furious, lunged at Bethany, tackling her to the ground. The Slytherins jeered, urging Pansy to give Bethany a brutal beating, whereas one lone Ravenclaw yelled, "Jab her in the eyes, Beth!"

Pansy's hands went for Bethany's throat, and Bethany, seizing her opportunity, reached up to Pansy's scalp and tugged as hard as she could. She let out a cry and released Bethany, and before she knew it, Bethany was being hauled up by Professor Sprout.

"Never in my years at Hogwarts have I _ever_ witnessed such despicable behavior by two young ladies in the classroom!" Her face was beet red. "Thirty points from Ravenclaw and Slytherin, and detention for both of you!"

Bethany, whose right hand was clenched shut, timidly asked, "Professor?"

"What?" Professor Sprout barked.

"May I go down to the hospital wing?" She reaches up with her left hand, touching her throat. "I was just choked, after all, and I have a feeling my neck will bruise."

The professor, upset as she was, consented with a, "Go ahead."

Bethany left the greenhouse, grinning. In her right hand, there were multiple strands of Pansy Parkinson's hair.

* * *

"Ready?"

"Ready."

Bethany uncapped the vial and drank the potion. The moment the substance hit her tongue, she wanted to gag. It tasted like rotting cabbages, and she clamped her mouth shut once it was gone. Her insides began to burn, to distort, and when she thought she couldn't take it anymore, it stopped.

Bethany stepped out of the stall. She nearly gave a start. Staring back at her in the mirror was Pansy Parkinson. She grimaced, stunned as an expression of disgust mirrored itself on Pansy's features.

Another stall door swung open, and Gregory Goyle joined her. "Hello, Harry," she said, in Pansy's voice. "Whoa!"

"Hello," Harry said, trying to smile at her but it came out more like a grimace. Bethany wasn't sure if Harry was unable to bring himself to smile when he looked like that, or if Goyle's body simply did not allow it.

Vincent Crabbe lumbered out later, his hands touching his nose and forehead. "This is unbelievable," Ron grunted, "Unbelievable."

"We'd better get going," Harry said, pointing to Goyle's watch. "We've still got to find out where the Slytherin common room is. I only hope we can find someone to follow."

Ron said, "You don't know how bizarre it is to see Goyle thinking." At this Bethany let out a laugh, instantly stopping when she realized it came out in the sharp, high pitched barks that she detested hearing from Pansy. "C'mon, Hermione, we need to go!" Ron banged on the stall Hermione was still in.

"I don't think I'm going to come at all! You go on without me!"

"Hermione, we know Millicent is ugly, but Pansy is too and Bethany's still out here! Nobody will even know it's you!"

"No, just go on! You're wasting time!" Hermione said shrilly. "Bethany, you'll do most of the talking, won't you? It won't make sense for Crabbe and Goyle to be coming up with much intelligent thought—"

"Don't worry, Hermione," Bethany replied. "We've got it."

The three of them stumbled out of the bathroom. Along their way, as they ambled about aimlessly, they gave each other pointers on how to walk, talk, and even stand. Percy discovered them soon enough, and was in the process of interrogating them when—

"There you are!" The familiar voice of Draco Malfoy rang out. "Have you two been pigging out— Pansy?"

Bethany gave him an eager smile. "Surprised to see me?" She asked, letting out a hideous giggle.

"I thought you went home for the holidays!"

"I convinced my parents to let me come back," she said, flipping Pansy's hair.

"Well, good. There's something funny I want to show you— all of you—" It was then Draco seemed to be aware of Percy's presence. "What are you looking at, _Weasley_?" He spat as if it were a curse word.

Percy flushed. "You and your little friends might want to show a little more respect for your school prefect! I don't like your attitude!"

Draco ignored him, nodding to signal the trio to follow him. "That Peter Weasley—"

"Percy," Ron corrected. Bethany nudged him, eyes wide, before glancing to the back of Draco's head.

"Whatever. I've noticed him sneaking around a lot lately. And I bet I know what he's up to. He thinks he's going to catch Slytherin's heir single-handed."

He let out a laugh at this. Ron and Harry exchanged dubious glances while Bethany rolled her eyes.

They approached a blank, stone wall. Draco frowned, turning to Bethany. "Pansy, do you remember the new password?"

"Uh—"

"Oh, yeah! Pureblood!" A door appeared, and Draco twisted the knob. "After you," he said to Bethany, grinning. Did he seriously open the door for Pansy Parkinson? The idea made Bethany's stomach twist uncomfortably.

Still, she let out another fake giggle. "You are _such_ a gentleman!"

"What can I say?" He said with a shrug, following her with Ron and Harry. "My mother would raised me as nothing less."

Bethany was amazed to see the Slytherin common room. This, she realized, marked the third common room at Hogwarts she had seen. The decor was a shade of emerald, the same emblazoned on the Slytherins robes. An ornate marble mantlepiece sat on the wall, while older Slytherin's lounged about in high backed chairs. The whole room reeked of luxury and opulence. _I could have lived here_ , she thought, staring enviously at an obsidian chandelier, before feeling the guilt. No, she wouldn't trade her place in Ravenclaw for the world.

"Wait here," Draco said, ushering them over to an unoccupied fainting couch. "It's up in my room, Father's just sent it to me."

A few minutes later, Draco returned, a newspaper clipping in his hand. "Here," He said, handing it to Ron. "This ought to give you a laugh."

The article was clearly from the Daily Prophet, and it detailed Mr. Weasley being fined for the magical car. "Well? Isn't it funny?" He demanded.

Bethany let out another laugh. "How ironic!"

Draco blinked. In that instant, Bethany knew she had slipped up. _Ironic? Really, Bethany? When have you_ ever _heard something like that come out of Pansy?_ But Harry, sensing something was wrong, let out a bleak, "Ha ha," which shifted Draco's attention.

"Arthur Weasley loves Muggles so much he should snap his wand in half and go and join them. You'd never know the Weasleys were pure-bloods, the way they behave."

Ron's face contorted. He was, no doubt, furious by Draco's constant ridicules. "What's up with you, Crabbe?"

"Stomachache," he grunted in reply.

Draco let out a laugh. "Well, go up to the hospital wing and give all those Mudbloods a kick from me." It was at this point he began to ramble on about how Dumbledore was trying to hush up the attacks and mocking Colin Creevy, the poor boy who had been petrified weeks previously. Bethany felt sick just listening to him. How could any one person so be so cruel all the time? "Saint Potter, the Mudbloods' friend," Draco drawled. "He's another one with no proper wizard feeling, or he wouldn't go around with that jumped up Granger Mudblood. And people think he's Slytherin's heir!"

At this, Ron and Harry exchanged another look. "I wish I knew who it was," Draco said. "I could help them."

Bethany looked over to Ron and Harry, with a clear expression that said, 'I told you'.

"So do I," Bethany said, "You could do so much! After all, your father knows some very important people—"

Harry interrupted her with "You must have some idea who's behind it all..."

Draco let out a groan. "You know I haven't, Goyle. And Father won't tell me anything about the last time the Chamber was opened either. Of course, it was fifty years ago, so it was before his time, but he knows all about it, and he says that it was all kept quiet and it'll look suspicious if I know too much about it. But I know one thing - last time the Chamber of Secrets was opened, a Mudblood died. So I bet it's a matter of time before one of them's killed this time... I hope it's Granger."

Ron was clenching Goyle's fists, and Bethany suspected he wanted to take a swing. "Well, I hope it's that Bethany Riddle!" She said, grabbing Draco's attention. "After what she said to me, she deserves it!"

"She's not a Mudblood," he said, "She told me her parents were our kind. You heard what she said, she's related to the Shafiqs—"

"Well, I don't believe it for a second!" She sniffed, "and neither should you, Draco! Especially not about what she said about me! You know she was lying, don't you? Because I would never, _ever_ stuff my bra—"

"Will you let that go?" Draco asked irritably. "I don't care what Bethany Riddle said about you. I don't know why you're letting it get to you." He ran a hand, messing up his hair.

Bethany frowned. "Is something the matter?"

"Oh, nothing," he said. "Father just told me the Ministry raided the manor last week."

She let out a gasp. "Oh, I'm so sorry—"

"It's fine. Luckily, they didn't find much. Father's got some very valuable Dark Arts stuff. But luckily, we've got our own secret chamber under the drawing-room floor— Listen, you ought to warn your father, Pansy, I know he's got—"

Ron let out a strangled noise just then. Bethany glanced over, much to her horror, to see his hair was turning red. Beside him, Harry's scar was reappearing. She must be changing as well. "I will!" She jumped to her feet. "I'm going to write an owl right now! Come on, Crabbe, Goyle— thanks, Draco!" With that, the three of them raced out of the Common Room.

"That was quick thinking," Harry complimented her as she gradually grew shorter.

"Yeah," Ron agreed. "You know, you were getting really into it. There were a couple of times I actually thought you were her. How'd you do it?"

Bethany shrugged. "I was in a couple of plays at my Muggle school. Besides, it's pretty easy to imitate her. All I had to was act as though I didn't have a single brain cell!"

Harry let out a short bark of laughter as the three of them ran back into Myrtle's bathroom.


	7. Chapter 6: Beyond My Own Mastery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Several quotes from this chapter are taken from Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets.

**Momento Mori**

**Chapter Six: Beyond My Own Mastery**

"Hey, Bethany?"

"Yes?"

"Do you remember how many rat tails we are supposed to put in the hair raising potion?" Ron asked.

"Uh, not at the moment," Bethany said. "I know I wrote in my notes, I'll check—"

Harry interrupted her with a "Whoa!" and pointed. Water was flowing out of Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.

"Did she flood it again?" Bethany stepped closer, her foot splashing in the water. Her face screwed up into a frown as she left water leak in and soak her socks with toilet water.

"Let's see what's going on," Harry said, motioning them to following him.

Bethany and Ron exchanged a glance and shrugged. _Might as well,_ she figured. _Whenever Harry goes somewhere, something is bound to happen._

Myrtle was wailing, claiming someone had thrown a book at her head. Bethany, who had been relatively disinterested, was outraged. How dare someone throw a book into a toilet? Harry picked up the book while she inwardly fumed. The boys just wouldn't understand if she went on a rant. She wished Hermione was there and not stuck in the hospital wing.

"Hey, Bethany?"

"What?"

"What's your Dad's name again?" Harry questioned.

"Tom," Bethany replied, brow furrowing. "Why?"

Harry opened the front cover and handed it to her. "Because I think this was his book."

* * *

_This diary is the property of T.M. Riddle._

It didn't seem real. He wrote his lower case ts the same way she did. The letters even flowed together into a half print, half cursive combination. This diary had been _his_ at some point. It had even been purchased on Vauxhall Road, which was only a couple blocks away from Wool's Orphanage.

Who had bought it for him? Had it been a gift from his parents? What had they been like? Or had it been a present from an old girlfriend he had in school, before he met her Mum? Or maybe it had been a gift from a sibling. She imagined a sweet, younger sister purchasing the leather bound book with money she had saved up for her older brother, or a roguish elder brother much like Fred or George, giving it to him as a gag gift. That would explain all the empty pages.

And what did M stand for? Was it a name commonly heard in the Muggle world, like Michael or Marcus? Or was it something more obscure and distinctly wizard, such as Montague or Matthias?

Bethany realized, with a twinge of sadness, that she now knew more about her father's name than her own. Professor Snape had never provided Dana with a middle name for Bethany—presumably, he hadn't known it. Perhaps she didn't even have one.

She wished she could ask her father all these questions that were swirling about her mind. All her life, it had been this way; questions, but no answers.

And all she would ever have was questions. Because her mother and father were dead. She couldn't ask them anything, because You-Know-Who had killed them. She would never know their favorite colors, their ambitions, or what it was like to give them a hug. She would never, ever know.

And for that, she began to weep.

* * *

The next day, they began a search. Harry, it seemed, was particularly fascinated in finding out more about her father—or rather, how his diary had ended up at Hogwarts fifty years later. Hermione, who was now out of the hospital, cast a charm to see if anything was written in invisible ink, but to no avail. Its pages remained blank.

Still, with Harry by her side, Bethany was able to dig deeper than she ever had before. They had discovered Tom Riddle's name on a list of Magical Merit, as well as finding out he had been Head Boy. "A prefect, too!" Ron burst out, pointing at his name on the list of prefects for 1943. "No offense, Bethany, but he sounds like he could be the Percy-type."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Hermione said, sounding quite hurt.

Bethany shrugged. "I don't care. I'd love to be a prefect someday."

Ron wrinkled up his nose. "Why on Earth would you want to do _that_?"

"Being a prefect comes with extra privileges," Bethany pointed out, holding her father's diary close to her. "You get private bathrooms, which I wouldn't be opposed to, but you can wander out after curfew as well. And it does give you a level of power over your peers, and teachers really respect you—"

"Alright, fine, I get it," Ron groaned.

* * *

Valentine's Day rolled around without many changes. The big highlights seemed to be Ginny sending Harry a singing Valentine and Lockhart decking everything in an obnoxious shade of pink.

" _His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad!_ " Fred trilled, skipping along with George over to Harry.

Bethany, who usually found them to be amusing, scowled. "Will you stop that?" She hissed. "There's no need to be so mean to her just because she's your sister!"

George ignored her, but Fred quirked his head to the side. "Ah, but that's why we have to do it. If we don't tease her, who else will?"

"It's all fine to tease her over the little things, but it's obvious to anyone with a pair of eyes that she really fancies Harry!" Bethany snapped. "That sort of thing can be really humiliating, especially for a girl!"

"What, as if it can't be for boys?"

She sighed. "I suppose you're right. But still," she said, "that's just rude to do. How would you like it if she told a girl you fancied that you liked her?"

Fred shrugged. "I'd just tell the girl myself. And I think you are forgetting, _Ginny_ sent the Valentine, not us. It isn't our fault she thought telling Harry his hair was black as a chalk board was a good compliment!"

"That's true," Bethany said, staring at him curiously. "So...you if you fancied a girl, you'd just go up and tell her?"

"Yeah, I guess so," Fred replied. "What's the worst that could happen?"

"Well, you could be rejected!" Just speaking the words aloud caused her stomach to drop. The idea of baring her innermost feelings to someone else only for them to turn her down filled her with unspeakable fear and utter mortification. She would sooner die than face that fate.

"So? You have to get through life being rejected a few times," he said.

She squirmed. "Yes, but that sounds horrible to me."

"Well, I'm not saying it would be fun," Fred grinned, "but then at least I would know what it meant for me." He looked down at her. "So if you fancied a bloke, you wouldn't tell him?"

"No," she said instantly. "I'd wait for him to tell me first."

Fred let out a loud laugh. "Really?"

"Yes," Bethany glowered at him, but she felt no real venom. In fact, she wasn't annoyed with him at all. It seemed as if it were an act; she knew she should be irate, therefore, she presented she was. "It's not funny, I mean it. Weren't you just saying that you'd tell her first?"

"Yeah, but most guys aren't like me," he pointed out. And he was right. Bethany didn't think she had ever met anyone like Fred Weasley before coming to Hogwarts. "A lot of them prefer the girl to make the first move."

Bethany shook her head. "I'll never do it," she declared. "Maybe it means I'm old fashioned or crazy, but that's the only way I'll know for certain he likes me for me."

Fred shook his head, laughing. "Well, that's one way of looking at it," he said. He glanced over to George, who had just finished having a conversation with Harry. "Have a nice Valentine's Day!" The twins ran off, and even though they were identical, Bethany found that her eyes stayed on only one of them.

* * *

Bethany idly flipped through the yellowed pages of the diary for the umpteenth time. For days, she had been deliberating what to do with it. Should she keep it as it was? Should she turn it into a planner instead of scribbling down haphazard notes on spare pieces of paper? Or should she turn it into her own diary?

She liked the last idea most. Maybe he father hadn't used it, but she could. In a way, she could have something deeply personal that had a direct connection to him.

Finally, she took out her quill and ink bottle, dipping the tip in the ink. Then, she stared down at the paper. But...what should she write? How should she start it out? She wanted this to be memorable, something she wouldn't want to burn with fire when she looked at it only a couple of years later.

While she analyzed several openings in her head, a drop of ink fell on the page. A curse she had heard spoken many times by the older orphan boys nearly tumbled from her lips, but then she watched as the ink seemed to be absorbed into the paper.

Bethany turned the page over, convinced to see a black splotch, but was amazed to see it was as in pristine condition.

She bit her lip nervously, wondering. What if...?

_My name is Bethany Riddle,_ she scrawled. The words vanished within seconds. Nothing happened for a moment. She nearly let out a groan when—

**Hello, Bethany. I am Tom Marvolo Riddle.**

These words then soon vanished. They were replaced by:

**Are we related?**

Bethany picked up her quill and wrote again. _Yes. You're my father._

**How fascinating. When I created this diary, I never imagined I would have a child. How did you come by my diary?**

_Somebody tried to flush it down a toilet. It flooded the whole bathroom. Then my friends and I saw this, and once I saw your name, I knew I had to have it._

**It's a good thing it is now in your hands. I would not trust many to have possession of this diary.**

Bethany frowned. _What do you mean?_

**I mean that this diary could be dangerous if it were to fall into anyone else's hands.**

**Do not lose it.**

_I won't. I wouldn't ever. This diary is the only connection I have to you._

**Have I passed on in your time?**

_Yes,_ she wrote. She paused before writing. _I've grown up in an orphanage._

**So have I. It was this awful little place in London called Wool's Orphanage. I always dreaded the summers, knowing I would have to go back there.**

Bethany gaped. Then _I live at Wool's Orphanage, too! It's still awful there! What room did you live in? I'm in room 27._

**What an extraordinary coincidence... my room was 27 as well.**

There was a stunned pause from Bethany. How could this be possible? The odds were slim to none... how could she have ended up in the same orphanage her father had grown up in, in the very same room?

His words vanished, but were replaced by more. **It saddens me to realize my daughter has had a childhood like mine. I would never want you to have to grow up in that wretched place as I have.**

_Thank you,_ wrote Bethany, eyes blurring with tears. _That means a lot to hear. I'm glad I have you now though, at least in this diary._

**And I am glad** _**you** _ **have this diary. At the time I enchanted this diary, I was focused on my OWLs and wasn't even thinking about any potential children. Tell me about yourself.**

_Well, as you know, I am Bethany Riddle. I'm twelve years old and I'm a Ravenclaw._

**A Ravenclaw?**

_Yes. Are you one, too? I've been told these sorts of things tend to go by families, and the Sorting Hat told me I was a lot like you._

**I'm a Slytherin, actually.**

_Oh. Well, I suppose that makes sense, too. It thought about putting me in Slytherin. It was a hat stall._

**Interesting. I wasn't a hat stall, but the Hat gave serious consideration to putting me in Ravenclaw.**

_Huh. Well, it's sort of strange. Maybe my mother was in Ravenclaw._

**Who was your mother?**

_Delilah Shafiq. Professor Snape told me about her, but not a whole lot. I just know she was good at potions and the names of her parents and sisters._

**Strange. I don't know anybody named Delilah Shafiq. I do know a Horus Shafiq, but he graduated last year. He was in Slytherin as well.**

_He's her father. Professor Snape said you were thirty years older than her, so she hasn't even been born yet in your time._

**I see.**

_Yeah. I think you were in your fifties when I was born._

**Tell me more about yourself.**

_Uh, let's see. I like to sing, and I'm in the Frog Choir here, and I was in a couple plays at my old Muggle school. I took private lessons for singing with an older lady called Mrs. Jones for about a year, too._

**How interesting. I happen to like music myself, though I was never involved in it. I took a few piano lessons, when I was in primary school from Mrs. Cole, but eventually I stopped.**

_I wish I knew how to play piano. That would be so useful, especially for finding pitch._

**Do you like Quidditch?**

_Watching it? Yes. I go whenever my friend Harry plays, and I've been to a couple of the Ravenclaw matches. But playing? No. I'm terrified of heights. Besides, I've never quite understood it. I know all the rules, but so much goes on and I end up being very confused. So I just start cheering whenever the people around me do so I don't end up making a fool of myself._

**I don't share your fear of heights, but I've never understood Quidditch, either. Flying is quite fun, in my opinion.**

_Like I said, I mainly go to watch my friend Harry. He got on the Gryffindor team when we were in first year._

**That is quite the feat. What are your friends like?**

_Well, I have a lot of people in my house who I'm friendly with, but my best friends are all Gryffindors. There's Ron Weasley, he's quite funny and he knows far more about the wizarding world than the rest of since he's a Pureblood. Then there is Hermione Granger, she's a Muggleborn but she is the most brilliant witch in our year. And then I'm friends with Harry Potter, and he ended up defeating You-Know-Who as a baby, and he did it again last year, too._

After the words were absorbed, she frantically scrawled, _Wait,_ _do_ _you know who You-Know-Who is?_

**I do.**

_Oh, good. I've never even seen his real name spelled out before, so I was hoping I wouldn't mangle it. It sounds French._

**Yes, it is. It means 'flight of death', I believe.**

_Oh! That's cool! Do you speak French?_

**I know some, from my days at Muggle primary school. We would have lessons once a week.**

_I learned German at my school. Flugvontoten sounds less sophisticated in German than it does in French._

_Speaking of languages you know, can you speak to snakes?_

**I can. You can as well?**

_Yes! I'm so glad you do! Harry is the only other person I know who can speak to snakes!_

She wrote into the diary for hours, even when all the other Ravenclaws started leaving the common room for bed. Soon, it was just her, the candlelight, and the diary.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that it was last midnight. _I think I need to go to bed. I have class at 8 in the morning tomorrow._

**Of course. I know what that is like. Try and get as much rest as you can.**

Bethany yawned. _Good night, Dad._

**Good night, Bethany.**

* * *

The next morning, Bethany shared her newfound discovery with her friends. "So you can talk to him?" Harry asked, staring at the book.

"Yes!" Bethany beamed. "I talked to him all last night!"

"What a fascinating piece of magic!" Hermione examined the book, flipping through the pages. "Did he explain how he did it?"

Bethany shook her head. "No. He just said he managed to enchant it and preserve a part of his sixteen year old self. So it isn't like he remembers anything about me or when I was born, or even my mother, but he does remember going to school and whatnot."

"Does he know anything about the Chamber of Secrets?" Harry asked. "I mean, he was around in 1943. Surely he knows something about it!"

"Maybe he caught whoever did it the first time!" Ron pointed out. "That would explain his award for special services to the school!"

Bethany blinked. "I guess you're right," she said slowly. "I didn't even think of that!"

"You ought to!" said Ron, growing progressively more excited, "Then maybe you could catch the other person! We could have two awards for special services to school for the Riddles!"

Bethany grinned. "Alright. I'll ask him later."

* * *

_Hello, Dad— Wait, is it weird if I call you Dad? I mean, I know you're only sixteen._

**Hello, Bethany. And while it is slightly jarring, it is accurate and therefore I don't mind. How was your day?**

_Good. I told my friends about the diary— don't worry, I didn't tell anybody else, and I know I can trust them— and they were wondering if you knew anything about the Chamber of Secrets, seeing as it opened when you were in school._

**As a matter of fact, I do. In my day, they told us it was a legend, that it did not exist. But this was a lie. In my fifth year, the Chamber was opened and the monster attacked several students, finally killing one. I caught the person who'd opened the Chamber and he was expelled. But the Headmaster, Professor Dippet, ashamed that such a thing had happened at Hogwarts, forbade me to tell the truth. A story was given out that the girl had died in a freak accident. They gave me a nice, shiny, engraved trophy for my trouble and warned me to keep my mouth shut. But I knew it could happen again. The monster lived on, and the one who had the power to release it was not imprisoned.**

_So you did catch him! I wondered if that was what that trophy was for. Someone has opened it up again, and nobody knows who it is. Thankfully, nobody has died yet, but several Muggleborns have been petrified. Can you tell me who opened it the first time?_

Bethany waited, her thrumming inside her chest. This was it, she could find out who had done it and it would all stop—

**Would you rather I showed you? I can take you to the memory of the night I caught the Heir.**

She didn't even hesitate. _Yes._

The pages began to blow, and Bethany felt her pulse increase. This seemed like a scene out of a horror movie. The pages finally stopped once they reached June thirteenth. A small picture formed, almost as it were a small TV. Bethany squinted, leaning closer to see better before she fell in.

"Oof!" The noise escaped her. Bethany pulled herself to her feet. She glanced around the room she was in. It seemed unfamiliar... a long mahogany desk stood in the center, with thick, heavy curtains draped over the windows. A man sat at the desk, not seeming to notice Bethany at all. "Hello?" She asked. The man sighed, picking up his papers.

Of course... this was her father's memory; nobody would be able to see her. Feeling silly for thinking it, Bethany walked over the window, uncertain of what to do next.

The sky was red as the sun set on the horizon; the sun had already set in Bethany's time. Of course, it was summer here—

A knock on the door tore Bethany's focus away. "Enter," said the old wizard at the desk.

The door opened to reveal her father. Bethany was surprised by what she saw. His hair was darker than her own, nearly black. His eyes were brown, whereas hers were hazel, and he seemed to tower above her. But they had the same pale complexion, she noted. It was strange to her that anyone would realize they were related.

But then she began noticing subtle similarities. They had the same nose, and she noticed a few freckles dotting his cheeks. The way he stood mirrored hers, though he seemed to radiate confidence whereas she was comfortable ducking into a corner.

"Ah, Riddle," the headmaster said, greeting him.

"You wanted to see me, Professor?" Bethany watched as he picked as his nails; it was a habit of hers whenever she was nervous.

"Sit down." Her father acquiesced. "I've just been reading the letter you sent me."

"Oh." He gripped his hands together tightly; another nervous habit that Bethany recognized.

The headmaster gave him a kind smile. "My dear boy, I cannot possibly let you stay at school over the summer. Surely you want to go home for the holidays?"

"No," he said instantly. "I'd much rather stay at Hogwarts than go back to that— to that—"

Bethany felt a twinge of sympathy. She, too, wished she could stay at Hogwarts year round and never return to Wool's Orphanage, and she had only been forced to return once. At this point, her father had to have gone home at least five or six times. She could only imagine how desperate he was, to send a letter to headmaster. The idea of sending a letter to Dumbledore seemed too intimidating to imagine.

"You live in a Muggle orphanage during the holidays, I believe?"

"Yes, sir." His pale cheeks took on a pink hue.

"You are a Muggleborn?"

"Half blood. Muggle father, witch mother," he stated, which surprised Bethany. She had assumed the Riddles to be a pureblooded family, but she supposed that it would explain why Pansy Parkinson hadn't realized she wasn't a Muggleborn. So did it make her a pureblood or a half blood? Then again, she supposed it mattered very little, to her at least.

"And are both your parents—?"

"My mother died just after I was born, sir. They told me at the orphanage she lived just long enough to name me - Tom after my father, Marvolo after my grandfather."

She had wondered where Marvolo had came from. It seemed like a strange name, but perhaps she could do some research and determine who he had been.

Dippet gave him another sympathetic look. "The thing is, Tom, special arrangements could have been made for you, but under the current circumstances..." he trailed off.

Her father gulped. "You mean the attacks, sir?"

"Precisely. My dear boy, you must see how foolish it would be of me to allow you to remain at the castle when term ends. Particularly in light of the recent tragedy... the death of that poor little girl... You will be safer by far at your orphanage. As a matter of fact, the Ministry of Magic is even now talking about closing the school. We are no nearer locating the— er— source of all this unpleasantness..."

At this, her father's eyes had widened. "Sir, if the person was caught— if it all stopped—"

"What do you mean? Riddle, do you know something about these attacks?"

"No, sir," he said, but she had a suspicion it was much like the 'no, sir' she had given Professor Dumbledore after she had heard the murderous voice a second time.

The headmaster settled down into his chair again, disappointed. "You may go, Tom."

He stood up, moving to the door. Bethany followed him, knowing that it wasn't about to end there. This was only the beginning.

Once they had reached the bottom step of the staircase leading to the headmaster's office, he stopped. His brow furrowed, much like hers when trying to make a difficult decision, and bit his lip.

He seemed to make a decision and set off, Bethany running after him. The hallways were empty, save for the sounds of their footsteps. However, they ran into a wizard with a long, auburn beard who asked, "What are you doing wandering around so late, Tom?"

Bethany jumped when she realized this was the younger version of Professor Dumbledore. "I had to see the headmaster, sir," her father answered him.

"Well, hurry off to bed," he said, giving her father the same suspicious look he had given her. "Best not roam the corridors these days. Not since..."

He trailed off, they wished each other a good night, and her father proceeded weaving about the castle. Bethany struggled to keep up, cursing her short legs. Apparently, that was something she had inherited from her mother.

Soon, Bethany heard another pair of footsteps. She watched as her father silently withdrew his wand. Bethany bit her lip, following him quietly as she could, even though nobody here could hear or see her.

"C'mon...gotta get yeh outta here...Come on, now, in the box..."

Bethany gaped. Was that Hagrid's voice? But who— or, knowing Hagrid and his love for the dangerous beasts, _what_ — was he talking to?

Her father jumped out from behind the corner, which startled the shadowy silhouette which was clearly a younger Hagrid. Nobody else could be that large. "Evening, Rubeus," her father drawled.

"What are yeh doin' down here, Tom?"

"It's all over. I'm going to have to turn you in, Rubeus. They're talking about closing Hogwarts if the attacks don't stop."

"What're yeh—"

Her father adopted a more sympathetic tone. "I don't think you meant to kill anyone. But monsters don't make good pets. I suppose you just let it out for exercise and—"

"It never killed no one!" Hagrid insisted. It was then Bethany thought she heard a strange clicking noise coming from the box on the floor.

"Come on, Rubeus. The dead girl's parents will be here tomorrow. The least Hogwarts can do is make sure that the thing that killed their daughter is slaughtered..."

"It wasn't him!" Hagrid cried out. "He wouldn't! He'd never!"

"Stand aside!" Tom Riddle raised his wand.

Everything spiraled around Bethany and she then found herself laying on the ground, staring up at the starry ceiling of the Ravenclaw common room. She was drenched in sweat.

It made no sense. How could it be Hagrid?

* * *

"What? No!"

"That can't be possible!" Harry pushed his glasses up. "Are you sure?"

"I am positive!" Bethany insisted, clutching the book close to herself. "Believe me, I didn't want it to be him, either." She let out a sigh. "But it makes sense, doesn't it?"

"What do you mean?" Harry asked. "Hagrid wouldn't hurt anybody!"

"Not intentionally," said Bethany. "But we all know how much Hagrid loves his creatures. It isn't out of the realm of possibility for him to adopt a monster. And Dad knew it wasn't intentional. That probably why Hagrid isn't locked away in Azkaban right now."

"She has a point," Ron said, uneasy. "I mean, there was that whole thing with Norbert last year—"

"But what if Bethany's father caught the wrong person on accident?" Hermione asked, desperately trying to find something that would not incriminate their friend.

Bethany glowered. "Then why did the attacks stop after Hagrid was expelled?"

Nobody seemed to have an answer.

* * *

Bethany stared at her reflection in the mirror. She blinked twice.

What had happened to her? One minute she had been walking to meet Ron and Hermione for Harry's Quidditch game and then she found herself here.

Bethany rubbed her eyes, splashing water over her face. Strange as it was, she had to get ready. How late was she?

Bethany raced out of Myrtle's bathroom. The halls were empty, devoid of any signs of life. Had the game began already? Bethany began wandering the corridors. Perhaps she had best head to the Quidditch pitch— she could find Ron and Harry there—

"Bethany, what are you doing?"

Bethany turned and saw Percy Weasley. "Oh, hi Percy!" She said brightly. "I was just headed to the game—"

"What are you talking about?" Percy asked sharply.

"The Quidditch game? I was going to watch Harry—"

"Bethany, the game was cancelled hours ago," he snapped. "Students are supposed to be in their dorms right now. Nobody can be walking the halls unaccompanied!"

That's when she knew. There had been another attack. "I will escort you back to your common room and speak to Professor Flitwick about this," Percy stated resolutely. "He will likely deduct points. I know you and my brother like to cause trouble with Harry Potter, but this is _dangerous_ , Bethany. Penelope was petrified, a _prefect._ And Hermione, too, for that matter, so I don't know why you think it is some kind of game to be searching for this monster when you could easily be killed."

Bethany felt as though all the air had been knocked out of her lungs. Hermione was petrified. Her best friend. The monster had petrified her...

Percy answered the riddle, and escorted Bethany in, where he spoke to Professor Flitwick in a low voice. Bethany, stunned, could not do anything but sit there, trying to process everything.

When Percy left, Professor Flitwick walked up to her. "Miss Riddle, were you wandering the hallways to find the monster?"

What could she do? If she told him the truth, he would think she was lying— or worse, he would think she had done it. "Yes, sir," she whispered quietly. "I just want— I'm so upset about Hermione—"

"I understand, Miss Riddle," he replied. "While I disapprove of you directly disobeying orders, I understand it was motivated by unselfish reasons. Therefore, I shall only deduct ten points."

"Thank you, sir," said Bethany numbly. In truth, she didn't care about house points. She cared about Hermione. And she cared about knowing the truth.

* * *

_Dad? I think something weird is happening. I have all these blank spaces in my memories and I don't know why._

**That is concerning. Have you told anyone about this yet?**

_No. I thought I would ask you first. I didn't know if it was a genetic thing or not._

**My best guess is that you are just tired. Sometimes, when I have felt overwhelmed by schoolwork, I tend to forget what I did only an hour ago. Try and get to sleep at an early time tonight.**

_Okay. Thank you._

* * *

_I don't know what's happening to me. It's happening more often now... sometimes I'll wake up in the strangest places._

**Perhaps you have been sleepwalking.**

_Maybe? I never have before._

* * *

Bethany walked slowly to the Great Hall for dinner. She had found herself in the dark courtyard. The last thing she had remembered was walking to Potions earlier that morning. Surely, it had to be dinner time right now.

She checked the inside of her book bag to ensure her father's diary was still in there. He kept insisting that it was just lack of sleep combined with stress, but nonetheless, she was concerned. Sometimes, days would go by and she could only piece a handful of memories together.

"Bethany?"

She turned around, seeing Fred Weasley sprinting over to her. "Hello," she said quietly.

"Hi," he smiled at her. "Ron and Harry have been looking for you all day. They said they had something to tell you."

"They have?" What was going on now? Her mind felt so boggled. Maybe they were still trying to find the Heir of Slytherin, whoever he was...

"Are you alright?" Fred gave her a look of concern. "You don't seem like yourself."

She forced a smile. "I'm fine. Just tired. And hungry," she added.

"You didn't have enough at the feast, then?"

"What?" Has she seriously missed the feast? Her stomach seemed to ache in protest. "Ha ha, I guess not," she replied weakly once Fred gave her a weird look.

He suddenly grinned. Instantly, she knew she was about to go on some sort of adventure. "Come on, then. I want to show you something."

Curious, Bethany followed him as he scampered down the hallways. They walked down several flights of stairs and down into the basement, walking up to a large painting with a pear. "Tickle it," Fred urged, with an expression of unmistakable excitement. "Go on!"

Hesitantly, she reached out and tickled the pear. She jumped as it giggled, and the painting swung open. "Welcome to the kitchens."

Bethany followed Fred through the portrait hole. "George and I have come down here for years," he said, leading the way. "You can ask the house elves to make _anything_ , and they'll do it."

Bethany frowned, thinking of poor Dobby the house elf. "Isn't that sort of cruel, though? Ordering them about?"

"Oh, we don't order them!" Fred insisted, as they entered the warm kitchen. "Just ask them politely. They love to be helpful!"

"Hello, Mr. Weasley!" A small creature with a high pitches voice walked up to Fred. Bethany gave a start. It seemed wrong for Fred be called 'Mr. Weasley'. "Are you hungry?"

"I could go for a slice of chocolate cake," Fred said with a grin. "But you better make it vanilla for Bethany—you don't like chocolate cake, do you?"

"No, I don't," she said, surprised he had remembered. She felt warmer than before, and she suspected it wasn't solely due to the fire blazing away inside the hearth.

"Of course!" The elf squeaked. "Would you like anything else?"

Fred glanced at her. "Um, could have a cup of hot chocolate, please?" Bethany asked the elf.

"Of course, Miss!" The elf set off.

"So... you don't like chocolate cake, but you'll drink hot chocolate?" Fred asked, arching a thin eyebrow. He sat down on a bench at a long table.

"They're two different things!" Bethany insisted, taking a seat across from him. "To be honest, I just don't like cake that much, and I prefer vanilla over chocolate any day."

Fred groaned. "If I'd known that, I wouldn't have asked them to bring you cake!"

She laughed. "It's fine, I don't mind. It sounds rather good right now, actually." To be honest, the ache growing in Bethany's stomach was so strong she would eat anything right now. "So what is that elf's name? He seems to recognize you."

Fred grinned weakly. "Yeah," he scratched the back of his neck, "George and I come down here a bit. To be honest, I don't think he can tell the difference between us." Fred seemed to deflate at this. "I think his name is Topsy."

"I'm sure he does," Bethany said, trying to liven him up. "I bet he's just calling you Mr. Weasley to be respectful."

Fred shook his head. "Nah. It's alright though. I mean, Mum can barely tell us apart."

The sentiment of the statement saddened her. How awful would it be, to only be recognized as one half of a unit? To be confused for someone else consistently? To have your identity be one in the same as someone else's? "Well, I can," she found herself stating boldly

"You can?" He leaned forward, intrigued. She watched as his lips quirked upward. "How?"

"I'm not saying it's easy— I had a hard time at first, but I can," she said. "See, you're taller. Only by a little bit, but it's there. Your voice is a lower as well. George also has a scar on the palm of his left hand— I don't know what it's from, but I've noticed it. And you have different personalities as well. Similar, but different. You're more sarcastic than George is."

Fred grinned. She felt proud, realizing that it had been her to put that smile upon his face. "Huh. You know, it makes a lot of sense that you are in Ravenclaw. I forget sometimes that you are, since you hang around Ron so much."

Bethany shrugged, staring down at a crumb resting on the table. "I don't know why you'd think that. I'm not brave at all. I just end up getting pulled into Ron and Harry's schemes."

"Yeah, but Hermione does, too."

Bethany shook her head. "Hermione is more of a willing participant than you realize. Hermione is willing to break the rules, if she thinks it is the right thing to do. I don't want to break them, but somehow I manage to, anyway."

"Here are your cakes!" The little elf trilled, carrying two plates. He sat them down in front of them.

Bethany was absolutely ravenous. She felt as if she hadn't ate in years. "Thanks, Topsy," she said, smiling at him before reaching for her fork and digging in.

"You are very welcome, Miss! Topsy will bring you your hot chocolate!" The elf exclaimed.

Soon, the cake was gone and all that was left was a smear of icing and a small amount of chocolate at the bottom of a red mug. "That was delicious, thanks," Fred told the elf.

"Yes, thank you," Bethany said again.

"It was no problem!" Topsy gave them both a winning smile. "Topsy is glad you enjoyed it. Come again!"

The pair left the kitchen. Bethany still felt hungry, but considerably less than she had been before. "Thank you for showing me that," said Bethany. She suddenly found herself feeling even more shy than usual.

"It wasn't a problem," Fred said. "If you ever want to go for a midnight snack some night, just let me know." His brown eyes seemed to shine. With that, he turned on his heel and left, Bethany staring after him.

She didn't know what it was that finally made her realize. Maybe it was when he turned around after she called out "Bye!" and smiled at her. Maybe it was the way he put up his hand and waved or possibly even the way he spoke her name as he said goodnight to her. It could have been any number of things, ranging from the clichéd to the mundane, but in that moment, everything clicked. All the unusual thoughts that had popped into her mind during their interactions, all the irregular behavior, all the ways she had observed him and the ways she had admired him—all of it made sense to Bethany in that moment.

It was simple, really. She had a crush on Fred Weasley.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bethany’s German translation of Voldemort is incorrect— She doesn’t know German very well :) 
> 
> I received a question on fanfiction.net that I figured I ought to address here as well. The spell Dumbledore performed in the prologue is what has kept the Malfoy’s from recognizing Bethany. In the next chapter, you’ll get a more in depth explanation of the spell itself. 
> 
> Thank you very much to everyone who has read, subscribed, or left kudos!


	8. Chapter Seven: The Instrument of Evil

**Momento Mori**

**Chapter Seven: The Instrument of Evil**

_She seemed to be in a dream. Nothing was defined, there were no sharp edges. She roamed the halls of Hogwarts aimlessly. She passed crowds of people— barely noticing them—it was just a dream, after all—_

**Go to the Gryffindor tower and find Ginevra Weasley.**

_Brief flashes— she saw the scarlet adorning the robes of Gryffindors, heard her name spoken, only as it were underwater. She paid it no mind. She had to find Ginevra._

_She closed her eyes and a red headed girl stood before her. Her pale face was covered in freckles, her brown eyes the same shade as Fred's—_

**Tell her to come with you.**

"Hello, Ginny."

"Oh, um, hi, Bethany—"

"I have to show you something."

"I'd love to come, but—"

**It's no use. She won't listen to you. Use Imperio.**

_Bethany watched as she raised her arm, pointing it at the young girl._

" _Imperio_!"

_Ginny froze, her eyes glazing over._

**Good. Very good. Now, take her with you. Go down to the hallway, where you found that miserable cat.**

_They walked, slowly, it seemed. But now, nobody was there. The hallways were empty. Maybe classes had begun— Wait, was she missing potions right now?_

_Never mind. It was all a dream. She didn't have to worry about anything._

_Darkness swept over her vision, and she embraced it._

* * *

Bethany found herself standing underneath the message the Heir of Slytherin had left. She saw flame red hair out of the corner of her eye— her wand was in her pocket, and in her hand was...

A brush. A paint brush. It's bristle were covered in a crimson substance. She smelled something metallic, like iron... like blood.

The brush dropped from her hand, clattering on the floor. Her left hand clapped over her mouth as she desperately tried not to retch.

Above her, in blood-red, were the words: _**Her skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever.**_

The words sent a chill throughout her entire body. She had wrote that, that gruesome message, she had written that _in blood..._

Bethany opened up her mouth— either to scream for help or vomit— but she felt herself fall to the ground. Spots danced around her vision, as if she was losing consciousness.

* * *

_She was standing at the mirror in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, right in front of a sink. Her bloodshot eyes had dark circles underneath them. "_ Open _," She said._

**That was in English. Try again.**

" _Open."_

_The sink seemed to move and open, revealing a long tunnel leading down into a cavern. Ginny, who was standing beside her, let out a loud yelp._ "Bethany, let me go! Stop, please!"

**It wore off. Recast Imperio again.**

" _Imperio!"_

_Ginny let out another cry, thrashing about before the spell hit her, and she calmed._

**Now. Send her in. Tell her to close her eyes.**

"Close your eyes, Ginny."

_And as she said it, Bethany closed her eyes, too. It was all a dream. It was just a dream._

* * *

She felt something cold against her cheek. Her eyelids fluttered. A chill radiated throughout her body. Bethany thought she heard water dripping.

Her eyes flew open. A statue of a serpent looked directly back at her, its forked tongue sticking out. She heard the sound of footsteps, walking towards her. Unsure of what do, she squeezed her eyes shut, hoping whoever it was would assume she was sleeping.

They moved closer and closer towards her, until they stopped. "There's no point in pretending, Bethany," a familiar voice rang out. "I know you're awake."

She opened her eyes, looking up. The young Tom Riddle offered her a hand. "Dad?" Her whisper echoed through the cavernous room.

A smile crossed his features. "It worked," he said, "I was worried for a while that it might not. But you have done wonderfully. I am very proud of you."

The words, while they were all she had ever wanted to hear, confused her. "What do you mean? Where am I?"

"The Chamber of Secrets, of course. Look," her father said, resting a hand on her shoulder and pointing to a statue of a wizened wizard with a long mustache. "That is a statue of Salazar himself. He fashioned all of these figures out of marble and placed them in here. It seems a shame that so few have the privilege and breeding to see such a magnificent piece of Hogwarts history," he lamented, but Bethany sensed a distinct amount of pride.

"But what are we doing down here?" Bethany asked. She whirled around, eyes scanning every surface rapidly. "Where is the monster?"

"You don't have to worry about the monster," he soothed her. The paternal gesture of brushing a piece of damp hair from her face was not only foreign but disarming, considering his outward appearance was only four years older than her own. "The Basalisk is resting before she is to be unleashed. You can control it, you know."

Bethany stared up at him. A Basalisk, she remembered from her scan through _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them,_ was a large snake. "But I thought only the Heir could control the monster," she stated, still confused.

His smile only grew. " _You_ are the Heir. And so am I," he told her. "And together, we shall purge Hogwarts of the filth that is currently polluting its hallways until all that is left are those with the purest of blood."

She shook her head. "No," she whispered out loud. "No! I can't be the Heir! I didn't— I didn't hurt those people, I would never—"

"But you did," Tom Riddle said with a smile. "Quite impressively, I might add. You took out your prefect and your little Mudblood friend out the same time. It was an impressive accomplishment."

_No._ It couldn't be possible, she couldn't have petrified Penelope and Hermione— she couldn't have nearly killed her best friend—

"I know you have an attachment to Mudblood girl, but think about it this way; once she is dead, maybe you can be at the top of your class!" The words were spoken with great amusement. It sickened her. "You'll take after me!"

"I don't want to be like you!" Bethany burst out, backing away from him. "Not if you kill people!"

The smile fell from his face. "Is that any way to speak to your elders?" Bethany refused to answer him. Anger was coursing through her veins. "Mudbloods and Muggles are hardly humans," he continued on, "You of all people should know that, Bethany. You have grown up in that same dreadful orphanage I have been forced to live in since I was born. You know how foolish Muggles are, how cruel they can be. They don't understand magic, or anyone who is different. They mock us, they scorn us, even though we possess the power to make them pay."

It was then that Bethany noticed he was twirling a wand in his fingers, almost idly. Her wand, more precisely.

"Give me that! It's mine!" Bethany lunged for it, but he held it high above her head.

"Don't worry," he told her, smirking. "You'll get it back. Eventually. I have a feeling I am going to need this soon. From what you have told me about your friend Harry Potter, he seems to enjoy foiling my plans. By now, the school has probably announced it will be shutting down due to your message, and Harry Potter shall be coming down here any minute to rescue you." He looked at something behind her, and smirk grew. "But they won't be able to release the students. Not yet. Because they will be looking around for poor Ginevra."

Bethany whirled around, the sick feeling in her stomach growing. Ginny was laying still on the ground, her skin ashen. Much to her relief, she seemed to be in taking shallow breaths. "What's happened to her? Why is she here?" Tears gathered in the corner of her eyes.

"Ginevra was the one in possession of my diary before you happened upon it," Tom stepped forward, gazing down at the girl. "She wrote to me for almost the entire year. And she told me _everything._ She told me about how her family was so impoverished that she had to wear her older brothers' clothes, how cruel her older brothers' were to her, and how much she _adored_ the famous Harry Potter, and how scared she was that he would never see her as anything more than Ron Weasley's little sister." He let out an unkind laugh. "But I managed to alleviate her fears. I listened to every little uninteresting thing Ginevra had to share, because I knew I could use her as an instrument to my return."

"What do you mean?" Bethany's eyes never left Ginny, whose skin seemed to be growing paler by the minute.

"Ginevra poured out her soul to me," he explained. "So I poured part of myself into her. She told me so much about herself, that I was able to use her to open up the Chamber of Secrets." He turned to Bethany. "Ginevra was the one who opened the Chamber. She unleashed Basalisk and wrote the first message on the wall."

Bethany tore her eyes away, turning to look at her father. "You mean _you_ did it," she corrected. "You just possessed her. You didn't have a body of your own, so you inside her mind and made her do it for was your actions, and she had no idea what she was doing. And neither did I, for that matter."

He raised his eyebrows, but seemed amused. "Very clever. You would have made an excellent addition to Slytherin, but I think Ravenclaw was the right fit for you. Unfortunately, many of your contemporaries in Slytherin seem to be lacking the cunning that should be intrinsic in all Slytherins. Oh, well," he let out a lofty sigh, "it just means they are easier for you to control."

Hearing the way he spoke sickened her. How could she be related to this _monster?_ He talked about killing people as it were nothing, manipulating others for his own selfish gain, and of terrorizing a young girl for nearly a year, and he had the audacity to _mock_ her for sharing her most secret thoughts, the thoughts every eleven year old girl had.

He was despicable.

"Then Ginevra asked me about a girl," he said. "A girl named Bethany Riddle. She asked me if we were related." He laughed again at this. "The silly thing never could grasp that I had no way of seeing into my own future. But she told me about you, and how much her brother Ron admired you, and how even though he said you were nice, you seemed rather stuck up—" Bethany's jaw dropped at this, and she stole a glance at Ginny. "Yes," He said, following her gaze. "Ginevra had few nice things to say about you, so don't feel too sorry for her.

"I knew that my diary had to come into your possession, and by that point, Ginevra was growing tired of me. She began suspecting that I was the Heir, and cast my diary into the toilet in which you found me."

Ginny's foot twitched. Bethany stared down at her, biting her lip. No matter what her father said about her, Bethany pitied Ginny Weasley. She had been manipulated by somebody with no conscience or regard for her safety. It didn't matter what her personal opinion of Bethany was; perhaps she had come off across as cold to the younger girl.

"And once you found my diary, you began writing in it yourself," Tom continued on, his voice low. "You did the same thing Ginevra did; you poured out your soul to me. And by doing that, you allowed me to complete my plans.

"The last step was the most difficult of all to complete," he said, spinning to face her. "I relied more on you than on Ginevra to complete my plans, even though she carried out most of the attacks. In order to restore myself to my full strength, I needed to drain the life force out of somebody. Obviously, I did not wish to jeopardize the life of my own daughter when I could easily rid the world of one less blood traitor."

"Don't call her that!"

"Pure blood may run through her veins, but at the end of the day, she would rather lick the boots of a Muggle than join us," Tom Riddle said, scowling. "You should have heard the things she would tell me, Bethany. It was revolting." He arranged his features into a more pleasant expression. "Now, I do realize you are friends with her brothers, and if you believe they would be willing to join our cause, you may try your best to convince them."

"Your cause."

"What?"

"Your cause," Bethany repeated. "Because I'm not going to _kill_ anybody."

His features contorted, lips pressing together. "Fine," he snapped. "I'll do all the killing, then. You persuade others to join—"

Bethany shook her head. "No. I can't. I won't do it."

He took another step toward her, until they were nearly face to face. "Yes, you _will_. I did not preserve myself in a diary fifty years ago for you to throw away all I have worked tirelessly for."

"But what you are working for is _wrong_."

"That's what fools like Dumbledore would have you think," he spat. "They would tell you that you are evil, just for being related to me. Admit it," he sneered. "Dumbledore has kept a close eye on you, hasn't he? Ever since the Chamber of Secrets opened? He suspected me long ago, and he cast the blame on you, even before you knew anything about your heritage. I wouldn't be surprised if he is the one who sent you to that orphanage. Do you wish to align yourself people such as that, who would judge you based on your family?"

His words hit close to the truth. If Dumbledore had suspected her father of opening the Chamber when he was in school, no wonder he had been asking her so many questions! As unjust as it seemed, Bethany rationalized that if Dumbledore had the slightest inclination that Tom Riddle was as twisted as he was, then he had every right to suspect her of the same. "At least they aren't evil!" She retorted.

"There is no good or evil, there is only power and those too weak to seek it," Tom said, unfazed.

The phrase sounded familiar to Bethany. She had she heard that before...?

Muffled shouts came from outside the Chamber. Tom quirked his eyebrows up. "I think we have a guest," he said, striding over to a pillar, leaning against it lazily. It was horrifying, how natural he looked. Nobody would ever suspect he was a dangerous sociopath just by looking at him. "I am afraid to have to do this, but I am afraid it is necessary—"

Before Bethany could question what was happening, he waved her wand and said " _Stupefy."_

Bethany flew back and onto the floor. She stared up at the ceiling. She couldn't move, couldn't protest, couldn't do anything—

"Bethany!" Harry running into the Chamber. "Oh, Merlin, Ginny— Ginny, wake up—"

"She won't wake," Bethany heard Tom say.

From that point on, he reiterated all that he had told Bethany to Harry, from his origins to how he had used Ginny to carry out his twisted plot. "But then, fate intervened, and I was able to finally communicate with my daughter."

It was (coincidentally) at this point that Bethany regained the ability to speak. "I didn't know, Harry!" She cried out, "Please! Harry, I swear I didn't know, you know I would never hurt Hermione—"

" _Silencio_." Her voice stopped working, replaced by silence.

The Stunning spell broke completely, and Bethany sat up, watching the scene unfold. "I've wanted to speak with you for a long time, Harry. I've had many questions for you," said Tom Riddle.

"Like what?"

"Well," said Tom, smiling pleasantly, "how is it that you— a skinny boy with no extraordinary magical talent— managed to defeat the greatest wizard of all time? How did you escape with nothing but a scar, while Lord Voldemort's powers were destroyed?"

"Why do you care if I escaped? Voldemort was after your time!"

At this, Tom Riddle's smile grew. "Voldemort is my past, my present, and my future."

He lifted Bethany's wand into their air and wrote: TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE

He saw Bethany sitting up, and grinned. "Have you finally had enough being quiet?" She nodded. "Do you promise not to interrupt anymore?"

Bethany didn't make any effort to respond. The patronizing tone was getting rather old quickly. After all, he was barely older than she was.

He shrugged, and waved her wand. Bethany said nothing, watching his display.

Tom Riddle waved the wand again, and all the letters rearranged themselves.

I AM LORD VOLDEMORT

_No._ This had to be a joke. She couldn't... she _wasn't_...

His focus shifted to Bethany. "You didn't think I would keep my filthy Muggle father's name, did you? I, in whose veins runs the blood of Salazar Slytherin himself, through my mother's side? I, keep the name of a foul, common Muggle, who abandoned me even before I was born, just because he found out his wife was a witch? No, I fashioned myself a new name, a name I knew wizards everywhere would one day fear to speak, when I had become the greatest sorcerer in the world! And you— you are my legacy. And instead you wish to throw it all away from some half blood who defeated me and robbed you of having a parent, a know-it-all Mudblood, and blood traitor?"

"Yes," said Bethany. It was the first words she had spoken since the reveal. "I would. Because they actually care about me," she said accusingly, "and they wouldn't use me as a selfish means to their end."

His face contorted with rage.

"Also— Sorry, I don't want to ruin this touching moment, but you're not the most powerful wizard in the world," said Harry, jutting our his jaw, "Dumbledore is."

This only further sparked the ire of the young Dark Lord. He released the Basalisk, trying to stop Harry, but Bethany distracted it by hissing conflicting things to it. _I bet you wish you hadn't told me I could control it too, huh?_ Bethany thought once she saw Tom's eyes glare at her darkly.

Soon, a phoenix arrived with the Sorting Hat, and the bird managed to pluck out the Basalisk's eyes. The snake managed to pierce Harry's skin before he stabbed it to death with the sword of Gryffindor— which, miraculously, appeared from inside the hat.

While Harry laid down on the ground in pain, the phoenix let a couple of his tears spill onto the wound. Bethany, who was desperately trying to avoid looking at the corpse of the Basalisk, had rushed over to Ginny's aid. The girl was still breathing, but obviously weak and pale. Her skin felt cold to the touch.

"Get away, bird," Bethany heard her father say frantically. "I said get away!" A few moments later, he said, "Phoenix tears... of course... healing powers... I had forgotten... But it makes no difference. I prefer it this way. Just you and me, Harry Potter."

That was the moment Ginny stopped breathing.

"Ginny!" Bethany screamed. "Oh, God, Ginny!"

"What are you doing?" Bethany heard Tom shout. "Bethany—"

She whirled around to watch as Harry took one of the Basalisk's fangs and plunged it into the diary. Of course... that damned diary that had caused so much trouble and brought so much pain...

Her father was screaming and writing about in agony as ink spurted out of the diary.

And then he vanished.

Silence fell over the Chamber. Bethany turned back to Ginny, who was still laying still on the ground. "Ginny—"

The girl suddenly sat up, gasping for air. Her brown eyes opened, not looking at anything in particular. "She's alright!" Harry helped her up off the ground as Bethany burst into tears of relief. "We've got to get her to the hospital—"

"Harry, I'm so sorry," Bethany wiped tears from her eyes as she helped Ginny up from the other side. "I didn't know— I had no idea what was happening until today, please believe me—"

"I do," he said. He looked her in the eye. "I know you wouldn't do that. Not on purpose. You're better than he is, Bethany."

The words made Bethany tear up yet again. "Come on," he said, "we need to hurry back—"

"Right, of course," said Bethany, sniffling.

They dragged Ginny all the way to Ron and Professor Lockhart, who appeared to have forgotten who he was. Fawkes, in an impressive feat, managed to hoist all five of them out of the Chamber and lead them to Professor McGonagall's office. "Professor!" Bethany burst out. "Please, Ginny needs help—"

"Goodness, Miss Riddle, what is going on?" Professor McGonagall asked. All the Weasleys were there, rushing to hug Ron and Ginny. Professor Dumbledore was there as well, observing the scene with interest.

"I'm sorry, Professor, I'm so sorry!" Bethany cried out. "I didn't know, I swear—"

"Someone, get Miss Weasley to hospital immediately," said Professor Dumbledore. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley hurried out, while Mr. Weasley held Ginny like a rag doll. Ron left with them, but only after Bethany and Harry nodded for him to.

"Now, what precisely has happened?" The headmaster asked.

Before Harry could step in, Bethany confessed, "I—I'm the Heir of Slytherin." At the gasp from Professor McGonagall, she said, "But I didn't know! I didn't know until today!"

Professor Dumbledore stared gravely at Bethany. "Come with me, Miss Riddle," He said finally as Bethany wept. "We will discuss this in my office."

Riddle. _Riddle._ She had once liked her name—especially since it seemed like a fitting name for a Ravenclaw—but now she hated it. She didn't want to be connected to that awful, foul man in any way. She didn't care how he dressed himself up with a slew of others names; the name he had been born with was _Tom Riddle_ and she shared part of her name with him.

Bethany nodded, sniffling loudly. He was going to kick her out, and it would be nothing less than she deserved.

"Professor, can I come as well?" Harry asked. When the headmaster gave him a curious look, Harry looked at Bethany and said, "I feel like I should come along. I think Bethany will put more blame on herself than she should."

"You can come with us as well, Harry," Dumbledore said with a sigh.

Bethany wiped her tears on the sleeves of her robes. Harry, who was now falling into step beside her leaned over and whispered, "It's okay. You didn't know."

But that was it. She _should have_ known. She should have told somebody about that _stupid_ diary and then somebody could have confiscated it. Or she should have told somebody about the gaps in her memories. If she had told somebody, _anybody,_ about all the things she had noticed that weren't quite right, she could have out a stop to it all.

They reached Dumbledore's office and sat into two high backed chairs. "Miss Riddle," said Professor Dumbledore gravely, "this is an incredibly _serious_ matter. You must tell me everything."

And so she did. She apologized for lying the him the night she had heard the voice a second time. She told him about being a Parseltongue. She told him about finding the diary, and how it seemed a blessing before it turned into a curse. She told him about the strange gaps in her memory that would span hours at a time.

Professor Dumbledore's stony gaze met her. "You claim you had no idea of your heritage?"

"I didn't!" Bethany let out a shuddery sob. "It makes sense now, but— I didn't want to think about that. I mean, I knew I was a Parseltongue but everyone thought Harry was the Heir. I didn't, of course, but I didn't think it was _me,_ either."

"You said that you were only responsible for the attack on Penelope Clearwater and Hermione Granger," Dumbledore stated. Bethany looked down in shame. "If that is so, then who oversaw the majority of the attacks?"

"Ginny Weasley, sir," said Harry, speaking for the first time since arriving to the office. "She has the diary first. She opened up the Chamber, but once she realized what Riddle was doing to her, she chucked the book into the toilet. And that's how we found it and how Bethany got it."

"But one must wonder how the diary came to Hogwarts in the first place," He mused aloud.

As he said this, the door to his office flew open. "What is going on, Dumbledore?" Lucius Malfoy demanded as he stalked into the office. "It is nearly seven o'clock in the morning!"

"I thought that you might wish to know firsthand that the Chamber of Secrets has been closed forever," Professor Dumbledore told him.

Another whimper escaped Bethany then. Disgust welled up inside her. She had been so foolish, so utterly stupid—

"What—" Bethany looked up, only to find Lucius staring at her intently. His grey eyes were full of more emotions than she could begin to name. "Bethany?" He whispered.

As Bethany opened her mouth to respond, Lucius's cane fell from his hands as he wrapped his arms around her shaking form. "Oh, my dear girl, I've found you! I've found you!" Bethany tensed when she realized the man had started crying. Her terrified gaze fell to Dumbledore, who was watching the scene unfold with a blank expression. Harry, however, had a mixture of confusion as well as horror etched across his features, perfectly reflecting the emotions she was currently feeling.

Lucius pulled back after a minute or two, putting her face between his hands. "Narcissa will be so pleased," he said quietly, a genuine smile on his face. "Don't worry. You won't have to worry about ever going back to that horrible orphanage ever again. We'll be a family soon enough." With that, he withdrew from her and stared Dumbledore down. "What did you do?" He demanded.

"Only what was necessary."

"Necessary?" He let out a humorless laugh. "How was kidnapping a defenseless child necessary?" At this, Bethany sent a questioning look Dumbledore's way.

"Because Bethany Riddle is the one who helped unleash a Basalisk into Hogwarts."

Lucius's gaze snapped back to her. "Impossible," he scoffed. "There hasn't been a Basalisk sighting in centuries."

"Before her, it was Ginny Weasley. She happened to be under the possession of a diary. Is that correct, Bethany?" Bethany nodded. "It was then that this diary came into the possession of Bethany, and manipulated her into doing its bidding in the same way.

"I won't insult either of us by pretending as if we do not know the identity of her father and how cunning he can be. It was his memory inside of the diary that made these girls carry out tasks of which they were nothing more than his marionette puppets."

"How dreadful," Lucius said, and for once, it seemed, without a sneer. He gulped. "So he has been defeated once again? The Dark Lord?"

"Yes, Lucius. He is gone," Dumbledore's calculating gaze fell upon him. "Are you disappointed, perhaps?"

"Disappointed? Merlin, no! I am only relieved that such a threat is gone again— I cannot believe that he was even able to find away into the school and _second_ time in two years," Lucius said, sneering now at the headmaster. "What kind of school are you running, Albus, if I cannot trust that my son will not be safe from the threat of the Dark Lord himself? Or Bethany, who was possessed by him?"

Bethany exchanged a glance with Harry. How, or why, Lucius seemed to know her so well was a mystery. Perhaps it had to do with his allegiance to You-Know-Who— which, she was loath to remember, was her father.

Oh, God, he was her _father._ It hadn't truly managed to sink in, but it still made her feel ill. "Professor?" She whispered, drawing the attention of both men. "May I go down to the hospital wing? I'm not feeling well." She doubted there was anything they could give her in the hospital wing, but maybe she would be able to see how Ginny was doing with her own two eyes and hopefully see if Hermione had been revived yet. She wouldn't blame either of them if they never wanted to speak to her ever again, but it would bring her modicum of comfort if she could see they were alive and well.

"Of course, Miss Riddle. No doubt the events of today have been traumatic for you." Bethany nodded, agreeing with him. "I shall deduct two hundred points from Ravenclaw for your part in this sordid affair and for your part in bringing Ginevra Weasley into the Chamber with you. One hundred points shall be deducted from Gryffindor for Ginny's part in opening the Chamber. You shall serve detention the remainder of the school year."

"What— But Professor!" Harry interjected.

"This is ridiculous!" Lucius raved, "The Weasley girl is the one who opened the Chamber in the first place!"

But Bethany ignored them. "I understand, sir."

"You may go, then, Miss Riddle."

"Get feeling better," Harry spoke up as she moved toward the door. "I'll be down to visit you as soon as I can."

"Yes," said Lucius. "I will as well."

Bethany didn't question him, or respond in any way, but pushed out the door and walked slowly to hospital wing.

What would they think of her? If Ginny had been revived by now, she had surely told them that it had been Bethany who had dragged her down into the depths of the Chamber and allowed Riddle to feed on her to restore his strength. Now Ron probably hated her, and Fred as well...

And Hermione. God, what was she going to tell Hermione? " _Hi, Hermione, how are you? I'm sorry to have to tell you this but it turns out I'm the one who set the Basalisk on you! Oh, and by the way, the Dark Lord is my father!"_ That would be another friend who hated her, too.

And Harry. Harry had tried so hard to keep her out of the trouble by coming along with her. He said he didn't blame her, and that it wasn't her fault, but he didn't _understand._ It _was_ her fault. All the warning signs were there and she had ignored them.

A fresh wave of tears started up. Bethany swore she had cried more today than she had in her entire life. Her head ached.

As she reached the hospital wing, Bethany saw Madame Pomfrey leaning over Ginny, who was now alert, in a bed. Ron, the twins, and Percy all looked up as she walked in. She avoided their gaze, casting her vision to the floors.

"Alright, then," she heard Madame Pomfrey say, "she'll be alright now, I suppose. Just had a nasty shock, really. And who could blame her?" The nurse shook her head. "Mandrakes are nearly ready, I'll just help this girl out and then—"

"It's alright," said Bethany. "Help them first. I'll just— I'll just go—"

"Bethany, what are you doing?" Ron called out.

"Nonsense, dear," said Madame Pomfrey. "The Mandrakes aren't done yet. What do you need?"

"Um, do you have potion for headache?"

"Of course. Let me get it for you," she said, walking over the the cabinet.

At this point, the Weasley's had gradually broken away from Ginny's side, with the exception of Mrs. Weasley. "How are you holding up?" Ron offered her a smile.

She shook her head. "Not well. Not well at all."

Percy frowned. "Is something else wrong? Because if it is, just tell Madame Pomfrey. She'll get you straightened out."

Bethany shook her head again. "No, it's... I'm fine."

But she wasn't fine. She was horrified, repulsed, saddened, and frightened, all at once. She had been lied to, manipulated, and made a fool of.

And her father, who she had confided in for months now, was the Dark Lord. The same person who had slaughtered countless Muggles and wizards alike. He had even murdered Harry's parents, for crying out loud! Once Harry realized that, he would never want to speak to her again.

Bethany blinked quickly, hoping the Weasleys wouldn't ask her why she was crying. "Is Ginny okay?" She asked, wincing as her voice broke. "I was worried about her— she stopped breathing for a moment—"

"She's alright," Mr. Weasley assured her with a warm smile. "A little rattled, certainly, but that's to be expected."

Bethany nodded, relieved. She had been so worried. "I'd like to apologize," Bethany said to Mr. Weasley. "What happened was—"

"Not your fault," interjected Ron.

"Ginny told us about the diary," said George, unusually somber. "And she told us she thought maybe the same thing happened to you."

"We don't blame you at all. We're just happy you're both safe," Mr. Weasley told her.

Bethany blinked back tears again. "Thank you," She whispered. "You...you don't have to be this kind to me, but I appreciate it nonetheless."

"You were a child, Bethany. A child who was listening to a parent. You had no idea the things that horrible diary was capable of, because I'm sure if you had, you would have tried to throw it out just as Ginny had."

Madame Pomfrey joined them, giving Bethany a Pepper Up Potion and a cure for headaches. Bethany drank them both, grimacing as she downed the second. It tasted like burnt popcorn.

It wasn't until Madame Pomfrey had collected both vials that Professor Snape walked into the hospital wing. "Oh, good, Bethany, you're here," he said. "May I have a quick word with you?"

Bethany nodded and followed him out into the deserted hallway. "I am not here to scold you," he said first and foremost. "I know you well enough to realize you are likely wracked with a great deal of guilt. Are you alright?" He asked after a small pause.

Bethany shook her head. "Not really. I just discovered that I did a bunch of horrible things and that I'm the daughter of one of the most evil wizards in the history of the world. And you lied to me," she accused. "You told me You-Know-Who killed my parents. You basically Obi-Waned me!" She exclaimed, hysterical.

"What? Never mind," Professor Snape shook his head. "I told you what I did because it was the most I could disclose to you at the time. Up until this morning, you had a protective spell on you. Until you learned your father's true identity, nobody would recognize you as his daughter. Several people, like Mr. Ollivander, saw that you were _Tom Riddle's_ daughter, as well as Delilah's, but were unable to make the connection that you were in any way related to Lord Voldemort." Bethany shuddered at the mention of his name. "This was to keep you out of the reach from anybody attempting to use you as a means to raise another Dark Lord."

"When you were a child, I stole you from the residence of one of my closest friends and one of the Dark Lord's most trusted followers," Professor Snape told her quietly. "I then took you to the orphanage and left you in the care of Miss White. I had my anxieties; I was worried in a eleven years time, I would return to find another Dark Lord. But mercifully, I found you instead." He cleared his throat. "While there are similarities between the two of you that cannot be denied, I have always found you to be Delilah's daughter."

Bethany looked away, deeply moved.

She heard him let out a sigh. "The family I took you from were the Malfoys, under orders of Professor Dumbledore. I hated myself for doing such a thing; Narcissa and Lucius always adored you as their own. Your father left you in their care, and entrusted you to them in the case of his downfall.

"I know you have already spoken to Lucius, and I know he will wish to speak with you some more today, to make arrangements to bring you to Malfoy Manor. But I must ask you, for the sake of my service to the headmaster, that you do not reveal to either of them or Draco that I was the one to take you away and bring you to the orphanage. To do so would be detrimental for those who oppose your father and the things he has done."

Bethany looked up at Professor Snape. "I won't say anything," she promised. "But I don't want to live with them! Draco's horrible to my friends! I don't want to live with him or his awful father!"

Much to her surprise, Professor Snape smiled. "I am glad you shall keep this a secret. However, I think the Malfoys will surprise you. The image they present to the public is very different than they act in the privacy of their home. And I am afraid that as of right now, you don't have many choices. That is where your father wished for you to go, and it will be a simple process for them to retrieve you from the orphanage."

Her father. Yes, of course her stupid _father_ went and gave her to Draco Malfoy and his parents. As if she needed any more reasons to detest him. "Also," Professor Snape interrupted her thoughts, "I came to speak to you about private Occlumency lessons next year."

"Private what?"

"Occlumency lessons. As I am sure you are aware, your father has made many attempts to infiltrate and destroy Hogwarts. It would be prudent for you especially, in the event of his return, that you learn to block your mind using a powerful defensive magic known as Occlumency. It shall help keep your father or any other witch or wizard from reading your mind."

Bethany nodded. "Okay," She said. She didn't know what else to say. All she knew was that today was the day her life changed forever— and not for the better.

 


	9. Chapter 8: Two Streams in One Vale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This years is very much focused on Bethany and her dynamics with the Malfoys. The chapter titles for third year are taken from Tess of the D’Urbervilles by Thomas Hardy.

**Momento Mori**

**Chapter Eight: Two Streams in One Vale**

June 20th was the day Bethany left Wool's Orphanage forever. Lucius carried her trunk after enchanting it with a charm to make it lightweight while Bethany carried her leather bag, full of the few books she owned herself. _Jane Eyre_ was tucked inside, along with _Hogwarts: A History,_ a thin volume containing some of Edgar Allen Poe's best short stories, and _The Phantom of the Opera_. Lucius had told her to leave her Muggle clothes behind, save for the ones she was currently wearing, as they had already purchased a new wardrobe for her.

It was strange, really. Some days, Bethany had thought she would never leave that orphanage. Other days, she was determined to leave as soon as she turned of age and never look back. But neither of those had happened, and she was leaving sooner than she could have ever imagined. And while there was nothing there she wanted to cling to, she didn't want to leave. Perhaps it was because it was the only home she had ever known, or maybe it was simply because she didn't want to live with the Malfoys. In fact, she didn't even want to return to wizarding world. She had learned that magic was dangerous, especially when it was abused.

Her friends had been horrified when she had told them where she was going. Harry, who had of course been witness to the events that occurred in Dumbledore's office, realized there was little that could be done. "But you can't go there!" Ron exclaimed after she broke the news. "Lucius Malfoy was a Death Eater! He's evil!"

"I have to," Bethany told them, feeling more and more glum. "There's no way Dumbledore can stop them now. They know who I am. All they have to do is march into the orphanage."

Hermione, who had not yet vocalized her opposition, said, "You will be careful, won't you? Let us know if something is wrong."

"Of course," Bethany had said, feeling a lump in her throat.

"Narcissa is preparing for your arrival as we speak," said Lucius, breaking apart her melancholy thoughts, "and Draco has been helping. He thought you might want a blue bedspread as opposed to green."

Bethany didn't respond. In truth, she didn't care if the sheets were blue or green, she liked both colors. She supposed it was some sort of house thing, but in truth, Bethany's favorite color was red. It seemed silly, to paint ones room or only wear the colors of your house when there was a whole spectrum of other colors available.

Lucius and Bethany walked into an abandoned alley way. He sat her trunk down and said, "Will you hold onto that? Just onto one of the handles Bethany frowned, but reached for the handle. "Very good. Now," he reached for the other side, "grab my upper arm." Bethany did as he instructed, and before she knew it, there was a loud crack. She felt as thought everything was being torn about around her.

But it all stopped, and she standing in front of a tall gate. Lucius smiled. "Welcome to Malfoy Manor. I apologize— I know Side-Along Apparation is not pleasant, especially the first time, but it's the quickest method of travel."

Lucius levitated her trunk, and the gates swung open. They walked through the pathway up to a large, stately mansion. Several albino peacocks wandered past the leafy green hedges, pecking at insects in the grass.

The door opened automatically— it reminded Bethany of the doors at grocery stores with the motion sensors. Bethany found herself in a large entry way, with marble floors. Several portraits hung on the walls, almost all of them platinum haired men wearing robes of either green or black. "Narcissa," he called out. "We're home!"

A woman with blonde hair emerged from the door way. Her features, like her husband's, were sharp and pointed. There was no doubt this woman was Draco Malfoy's mother. "Darling!" She entered the room, a brilliant smile lighting up her features. She walked up to her husband and gave him a chaste kiss. "I am so happy you are finally here, Bethany," Narcissa told her, her blue eyes shining. "We have been hoping for years that we would find you again... you remind me so much of your mother."

Bethany gave her a polite smile. She seemed far warmer than her husband and son, but it was jarring nonetheless. She barely knew this woman, yet she was so pleased to see Bethany. It was an experience she was unaccustomed to.

"Batty!" Narcissa called out.

A small, timid house elf appeared. "Yes, mistress?"

"Take this trunk up to Bethany's room," she ordered, in a tone that was a far cry from the kindness she had just shown Bethany.

The elf nodded. "Yes, mistress!" The little creature Apparated away, taking Bethany's trunk with her.

"Now, Bethany," Narcissa said, smiling at her. "You'll have to tell me _everything_..."

"Mrs. Malfoy, can I please go to my room?" Bethany asked quickly. She felt rude, rejecting his woman so suddenly, but she could not think of anything worse that sharing her entire life story with somebody she had known for less than five minutes. "I'm really tired..."

A look of concern passed over the woman's face. Lucius placed a hand on her shoulder. "I Apparated here from London... I wanted to be home as soon as possible. Of course, she hasn't Apparated before..."

"Oh, yes. Of course." Narcissa cleared her throat. "Of course you may go to your room, I'll show you right now... it's right next to Draco's—"

"Have Draco show her the room," Lucius said suddenly.

Narcissa frowned at her husband. "But he's outside on his broom!"

"Well, then call him in here!"

Narcissa let out a sigh. "Wait here, then, dear. I'll go fetch Draco."

As soon as she left, Lucius said quietly, "I thought you would prefer Draco's company to my wife's. You know him the best out of the three of us, and I have a feeling Narcissa wouldn't leave you to get your rest."

Bethany looked up at him, surprised. He was far more astute than she had given him credit for. "I love my wife," he continued, "and having you back in our home is the happiest day of her life— apart from Draco's birth, of course. If you allow her time, she will mellow down."

"Thanks," was all Bethany could manage. It was still a lot to process.

Draco came into the room, wearing his Slytherin Quidditch robes, followed by his mother. Much to Bethany's surprise, his blond hair was not slicked back across his head, but left completely natural. It was an improvement, in her opinion. "Hello, Bethany," he said cordially. "I will show you up to your room."

Bethany blanched at how formal he sounded. It didn't sound _right._ Where was that lazy drawl she was so accustomed to? He wasn't even sneering! Still, she followed him wordlessly, following him down a hallway until he opened a door leading to a spiral staircase. "This isn't the usual way," Draco said, as they climbed up the rickety stairway, "but it's the quickest. It used to be used for human servants."

Bethany said nothing, but walked slowly behind Draco. A large part of her was frightened the wooden boards would break beneath her and send her falling. But thankfully, Draco reached a doorway, and opened it. "This is the top floor," he told her. "We have four floors here at the manor. There's the dungeons in basement, the main floor we were just in, the third floor has our library, Father's den, and the ballroom, and the fourth floor is where all our bedrooms are."

He held the door open for her, and she stepped out. Beneath her feet was an emerald rug that covered the ebony floor boards. "Follow me." Draco passed, one, two doors before stopping. He opened up the third. "Here it is," he said. "My room is right there," he said, nodding to the fourth door next to it. "You can arrange things however you would like in here, Mother just wants you to be comfortable."

Bethany stepped into the room. The walls were covered in grey and silver wallpaper with a dynasty print. Against the far corner, there was a four poster queen-sized bed. A blue canopy hung over top of it. Four large windows allowed the sunlight to shine through, but thick, blue velvet curtains hung on hooks off to the side. A circular rug, also in blue, sat on the floor. In the corner sat an ornate boudoir, in the other corner, a large wardrobe.

Beside the wardrobe, there was a large door. "Where does that go?" She asked.

"That's your bathroom," Draco said. He walked into the room, and opened the door. While the dominating color of her bedroom was Ravenclaw blue, this bathroom's main color was white, with metallic accents. Everything was spotless. Bethany peered inside, spying an ivory claw foot bath tub and another large boudoir. A small white robe, which was just her size, hung on the golden towel rack.

"Do you have a bathroom, too?"

"Of course." Draco acted as if the question were preposterous. "It's not like it is at school, where we all have to share one!" He sounded repulsed at the idea. Bethany figured it would be best not to tell him that she had spent her whole childhood sharing a two bathrooms with up to twenty other children.

"If you want anything else in here, don't hesitate to ask Mother," Draco said, leaning against the wall. "She'll give you anything you want."

Bethany gave a start. The concept of just asking for something and receiving it instantaneously was a foreign concept for her. It took at least five minutes to get a bandaid at the orphanage. "Really?"

"Yeah," said Draco. He ran a hand through his loose hair. "Mother and Father are good about that. Besides, they're so excited about having you here, they'll be extra indulgent."

"Are you upset?" Bethany asked, suddenly realizing that her presence was going to destroy Draco's existence as the only child of Malfoy Manor. "I mean, I know you've been here by yourself for a long time—"

"Not really," he said with a shrug. "You basically lived here as a baby. Mother has told me about a lot of stories about us together, and she always hoped you'd come back. So it isn't really that surprising."

"It is to me," Bethany said, flopping down on the large bed. "I never knew anything until last year. And then I found out all in one day."

Draco crossed his arms. "I bet. I couldn't believe when Father told me that you were _the_ Bethany Riddle. I know it sounds ridiculous, because I knew your name, but for some reason I never thought it was you."

"It isn't so ridiculous. Professor Snape told me that he thinks somebody put some kind of spell on me that made people not recognize me or realize who I was until I found out who my dad was," Bethany said. Yes, it was a partial lie, but at the same time, she wanted to alleviate any confusion while preserving Professor Snape's reputation.

Draco scoffed, "It was probably Dumbledore. Father thinks so, anyway. He's always trying interfere."

Bethany didn't respond, not wanting to reveal how close he was to the truth. She inspected the room again carefully. Even though it had been clearly tailored to match her house pride, it reminded her of a hotel room. Everything was coordinated, made to bring comfort to whoever was staying there, but it lacked so many things that corresponded to Bethany's personal taste.

She spied her trunk, laying at the foot of her bed. Figuring that was the best place for it, she opened up the trunk and started to take out her school books. "Do you want help unpacking?"

Bethany halted. Draco was standing upright now, looking at her with a curious expression. "No, thank you," she replied kindly. "But...I would appreciate the company," she admitted. "Tell me more about this place."

Draco shrugged. "There's not a whole lot to tell," he said. "We've got a large library, as you already know, and some gardens that go around the whole manor. We have a small Quidditch pitch as well, so I can practice over the summers."

Bethany hauled a stack of textbooks and her leather bag over to the boudoir. She emptied the bag, setting all the books on top with her school textbooks.

"So, did you like _Hogwarts; A History?"_ Draco asked, leaning against the wall again.

"I do. I reread it often..." Bethany trailed off, glancing down at the book, which was near the bottom of the stack. "How did you...?"

"You clearly wanted it, but you wouldn't buy it for yourself, so I bought it for you," he shrugged. "It wasn't a big deal."

Bethany disagreed. It was a big deal. Nobody except for Dana had ever given her a gift before her first year at Hogwarts. It hadn't even been until her birthday that her friends had given her any gifts. But he'd bought her one of her favorite books for her, even though they weren't very friendly with her. "Thank you," she told him, incredibly touched.

"It wasn't a big deal," Draco insisted again. "Father doesn't mind spending money. If I hadn't given it to you now, you could have bought it for yourself now."

He didn't get it. But it was alright. Surprisingly, Bethany was thinking that maybe living in the same house as Draco Malfoy might not be so bad as she had imagined it to be.

* * *

The next day, Bethany was placing a long, sturdy bookshelf in an empty space against the wall. "There," said Lucius, who was helping her push it into place. "I think that will work nicely."

"Yeah," said Bethany. She placed all her school books, on the shelf, and then added her leisure reading.

Lucius picked up _The Phantom of the Opera._ "I've never heard of this book before. What is it about?"

"It's a Muggle book," she explained, and to his credit, he didn't sneer at it. "I haven't read it yet, but it was in a pile of free books at the library, so I took it home with me. I don't know much about it, but they recently produced a musical about it, by a guy named Andrew Lloyd Webber. I haven't seen it before— the tickets are outrageously expensive— but I've heard the titular song and it sounds amazing. I thought I would read the book."

"Hm." Lucius say it back on the shelf. "You know, this bookshelf looks rather empty. Would you like to go to Diagon Alley this afternoon and see if we can fill it up?"

Bethany nodded enthusiastically.

* * *

Much to Bethany's delight, there were plenty of books to choose from in Diagon Alley. She hadn't ventured far into the world of wizarding fiction, but she selected a few works that looked interesting, as well as some fascinating books regarding wizarding history.

However, she was dismayed when she could not find any recognizable titles. She had hoped that she could possibly buy some of her favorite books she had read at the library in London and add them to her own personal collection, as well as reading some of the most esteemed novels that she had yet to read. However, she wandered aimlessly about the store, Mr. Malfoy following her each step of the way. "Is there a Muggle section?" She asked finally.

"A what?" Lucius seemed disarmed by her question.

"A Muggle section," she repeated, taking great amusement in how he paled dramatically. "I've read a lot of really good Muggle books, and I would love to own some. So do they sell any Muggle books here?"

"I, uh, don't believe so, Bethany," Lucius said, clearly growing uncomfortable. "Have you read anything by Emil Chatterly? He writes rather good mystery novels," he said, reaching for a book titled _The Ghoul on Bronston Avenue._

Bethany looked at it. "It looks like an interesting book," she mused, adding it to tower of books currently in her arms. "You know, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle wrote some brilliant mysteries as well. Sherlock Holmes is one of the most recognizable literary characters in the Muggle world," Bethany informed him, watching as his face grew pink.

"Really, now?"

"Uh huh." Draco had said his parents were willing to buy her anything... it was time to put that to the test. "Mr. Malfoy, will you please take me to a Muggle bookstore? There are some wonderful books there, and it would make me _so happy_ to have them."

His face grew red. He was clearly in a great deal of duress. "I don't think that would be a good idea," Lucius said, voice level but she could tell the mere thought of stepping foot into a Muggle establishment was giving him a conniption.

Disheartened but not surprised, Bethany nodded. Silently, she gathered her books as they went to check out. She let out a lofty sigh as they left the bookstore, trying to tell herself that she could buy herself the books when she was older. But five years— the number of years it would take Bethany before she was an adult in the wizarding world— seemed like a long time. She had avoided eye contact with Lucius, staring down at her shoes.

Finally, before they reached Madame Malkins (they had used the fireplace there for Flooing), Lucius stopped. He glanced at the sign, then back at Bethany. He let out a loud sigh before walking past it. Bethany, confused, followed after him. "What—?"

"Don't breathe a word of this to anybody," Lucius said lowly, but it wasn't a threat. Bethany realized just then that they were heading to the Leaky Cauldron; the half way point between the wizarding world and the Muggle.

Her eyes widened. "Thank you," She whispered.

"This is a one time occurrence," he told her, "so you had better grab every book you have ever wanted to read or reread because this will be the only time I will take you there."

"I understand," said Bethany, still in shock.

Later, as she added _Pride and Prejudice_ to her bookshelf, she heard the Malfoys voices from down the hallway. Narcissa was scolding Lucius in a hushed whisper saying, "I cannot _believe_ you went shopping in a Muggle store! Did anybody see you exchanging your gold for Muggle money? What if you had been spotted?"

"Nobody saw me," Lucius insisted quietly, "and what was I supposed to? That's where she wanted to go! You have no idea how upset she was when I told her no!"

"Well...you should have convinced her to read more wizarding literature! What about Emil Chatterly, you like his books—"

"I tried, darling! But she wanted Muggle books!" She heard a sigh. "We ended up in some second hand place. I tried to convince her we could go to somewhere that sold new books, but she wouldn't have it. She says she likes second hand books. She's a strange girl."

"She isn't strange! She's unique!"

"That's what I meant, darling! She isn't the _bad_ sort of strange, just... it's because of that blasted orphanage! If she had lived here with us, she would know better!"

"Unfortunately, we can't change the past. We can only shape the present," Narcissa said. "I'm happy she's here now."

"I am as well."

* * *

A few days later, Narcissa brought Bethany down into the drawing room for some biscuits and tea. Bethany found her eyes scoping the floor, trying to find the door that lead to where Lucius hid his dark artifacts.

"I knew your mother," Narcissa said suddenly, as Bethany took a bite out of a biscuit. "She was in the year behind me."

"Professor Snape has told me about her. Not a lot," Bethany said, sipping her tea.

"I didn't speak her much at school. She was very shy. She had a few close friends, but she was well liked by many," Narcissa continued. "I didn't truly get to know her until she was pregnant with you— I was pregnant with Draco, by that time, and we bonded over that." She gave Bethany a smile. "You remind me so much of her."

Bethany returned her smile. It was nice to hear that she was like her non-psychopathic parent. But at the same time, how on Earth had such a kind woman fallen for such a terrible person? It made little sense, and Bethany couldn't help but question what was wrong with a woman who would choose to be with somebody as twisted as the Dark Lord.

"She loved you very much, Bethany," Narcissa said. "She was so happy to finally have a child. It was something she had wanted for a long time, but something your father was hesitant to give her. He was worried you would try overthrow him once you were old enough. But I think you were the best thing that ever happened to them," she concluded.

_Them._ Bethany had a hard time believing the Dark Lord had welcomed her existence, considering he had been so hesitant before. He probably saw her the same way his younger self had; as something to use to further his hateful cause. "Can we not talk about him, please?" Bethany asked curtly before she could stop herself. "I know more than enough about _him._ I would rather know more about my mother."

Narcissa seemed taken aback by her outburst, but not very surprised. "Of course," she replied. "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking."

"Professor Snape told me she liked potions," Bethany said, "but that's really all I know about her interests."

Narcissa's blue eyes lit up. "She loved music. I understand you do as well?"

"Yes," said Bethany, wondering how she knew that. _Draco probably told her_ , she surmised. "I'm in the Frog Choir."

"I always wanted to join, but I was never a very good singer," Narcissa said. Her nose wrinkled up. "And I didn't want to hold a toad."

Bethany laughed. "I don't like that part very much, either. Not that I don't like the toads," she said hastily, "they're very well behaved. At least, mine is. It's just that at my Muggle school, they told us that the proper posture for singing was having our hands at our sides. But that's complicated when you have to try to hold a toad and try and stop him from squirming around."

"Do you have a pet toad, then?"

"No," replied Bethany. "It's one of Professor Flitwick's. He owns quite a few of them." It was kind of weird, when Bethany thought about it, but then again, he was a Ravenclaw. Bethany had observed some of the strangest things at Hogwarts inside her own common room. Janice Engle had read her Charms book sitting upside down on one of the sofas. Luna Lovegood, who had been a first year last year, frequently inspected the room for Nargles and Bethany swore she had once heard the girl singing the ABCs backwards. Collin Shaw routinely did sit ups while flossing his teeth. Finn Haywood once opened up a bag of crisps, organized them according to size, then ate them from largest to smallest.

"Do you don't have a pet?" Narcissa arched a pale eyebrow.

"No, not yet," replied Bethany, "I'd love one, though. I love all animals."

"Hm," was all Narcissa responded with, and Bethany assumed that by the end of the summer, she would have her own pet in some way shape or form.

"So my mother liked music?" Bethany asked, trying to continue the conversation.

"Yes. I don't know if she sang, but she loved the piano, and I believe she also played the cello. Whenever she visited the manor, she would always find our piano and start playing a song. She knew several by memory. Your fa— your parents," Narcissa corrected, "didn't have a piano in their own home. I suspect she took the opportunity to play whenever she could."

Bethany saw an image in her mind of a sad, lonely woman reaching out to black and white keys, trying to find solace in something that couldn't hurt her. "Where did we live?" She asked.

"To be honest, I don't know," Narcissa said. "In those days, information was kept private, and I could never visit. I know there was frequent travel to other homes, such as the Lestrange Estate and our Manor, but the main residence they kept was very small. I imagine it was almost a cottage of sorts. I think that was where she was the happiest. She spoke of a small pond that she liked to swim in."

Bethany was surprised. Considering this was the man who detested his humble beginnings and fashioned himself a name that meant 'flight of death', she had expected to hear about an ostentatious manor. She wouldn't have been shocked if Narcissa had told her they owned a palace _._ It seemed strange to her that Dark Lord chose a modest home with little space.

"That sounds very nice," Bethany said, "but I like this place, too."

And it was the truth. Bethany had taken time to explore the manor. She had a chat with a portrait of Septimus Malfoy about Germany (he had told her how he had lived there for three years and she told him about the rudimentary knowledge she had of the German language), visited the massive library, and walked through the maze in their garden. She had watched Draco practicing on the Quidditch pitch, but he had been so engrossed on catching the Snitch he hadn't noticed her. She had travelled down to the kitchens to introduce herself to the house elves, Batty and Winnie.

Narcissa beamed. "Thank you, Bethany. This is your home now, and we want it to feel that way to you."

Bethany nodded, and nibbles at another biscuit. To her, it all seemed like a dream. She of all people couldn't be living in a mansion with an extremely wealthy couple who would do anything they could for her— especially when they were _Draco's_ parents.

And Draco himself wasn't even that bad. He wasn't the friendliest person by any means, but he accepted her living in his home and tried to interact with her when he wasn't zooming around on his broom— which was actually a rare occasion. If Bethany didn't hear his bedroom door close every night, she would suspect he lived on his broomstick.

Narcissa seemed to sense her awe at the situation. "I know it's a lot to take in," she said. "I remember getting lost a few times after I moved in after marrying Lucius."

"I haven't got lost—yet," Bethany added. "Then again, there's a first time for everything."

Narcissa chuckled.

* * *

On June 27th, Lucius took Bethany and Draco to a Quidditch game. Bethany still didn't understand Quidditch, but was enthusiastic to go to a professional match. It would be something interesting to talk about with her friends.

It was jarring for Bethany when she dressed in a pair of green robes only to find Draco and his father wearing matching robes of dark grey and white, the words _Falmouth Falcons_ displayed across the chest. "Ah," Lucius said, greeting her with a smile, "Good morning. Are you ready to go for the game?"

"Er, yeah, I suppose."

"Excellent!" Lucius turned around, grabbing something and Bethany saw a white 5 with the name _Silvers_ emblazoned on the back. Bethany supposed these robes were like Muggle jerseys. "Grab onto my arms."

Draco latched onto the left, whereas Bethany gripped the loose fabric hanging on the right. He reached for his wand (which, Bethany noticed, he used his left hand for), and she immediately felt that weird, unpleasant, tearing feeling again before they were standing in front of a Quidditch stadium.

"So who are we playing against?" Bethany asked.

"The Chudley Cannons," Draco told her. He smirked. "They haven't won a single game in centuries! They're going to be destroyed today!" He let out a laugh.

Bethany smiled weakly. The Cannons were Ron's favorite team, she knew. As much as she was enjoying her summer with the Malfoys, a part of her wished she could be with him right now instead...maybe a certain brother of his would be there, too...

Lucius had already bought their tickets, so they were able to pass through the gates. There was a large booth, selling merchandise for both teams. "Come along, Bethany," Lucius said, once he saw her looking at the booth. "We ought to buy you something, so they'll know which team you're supporting."

Bethany envisioned some horrible scene where she ended up wearing the same robes as Draco and Lucius, but much to her relief, they sold everything from robes to socks at the booth. Lucius purchased a grey knit sweater for her, with a temporary cooling charm on it for summertime. "May I buy something from the Chudley Cannons? I want to get a gift for a friend," Bethany explained hastily.

Lucius arched an eyebrow. "And which friend would that be?"

"Ron Weasley."

He frowned, a crease in his forehead. "I'm not certain if spending time with Weasleys is the best use of your time, Bethany."

"Well, I disagree." Her arms immediately crossed over her chest.

"There are plenty of worthier wizarding families that you can associate with," Lucius said calmly, but Bethany could see he was growing aggravated. "The Greengrasses, for instance, have a daughter your age, and the Parkinsons have a daughter called Pansy—"

"Pansy Parkinson has been nothing but rude to me ever since I met her," interrupted Bethany. "She's one of the most spiteful and arrogant people I have ever met. Daphne is just as shallow and vapid, and barely had an original thought in her head."

"Hey, don't talk about Pansy that way!" Draco exclaimed, pinks flushed pink.

"Why shouldn't I? She has treated me _horribly_!"

"She didn't know who your father was!" Draco insisted. "If she had known that, she would have understood!"

Before Bethany could tell Draco that _she didn't care if Pansy Parkinson knew who her father was or not, she hated her father and she hated Pansy_ , Lucius angrily hissed, "Draco Lucius Malfoy! How dare you speak of such a thing in public!"

Draco's face paled significantly. "I'm sorry, Father—"

"Enough," Lucius said cooly. "We shall discuss this matter at _great length_ when we get home, young man."

Bethany, who was relishing witnessing Draco being scolded, asked, "So can I buy something for Ron?"

Draco shot her a glare. Lucius clenched his jaw before handing her five galleons. "Don't buy anything that costs more than this," he instructed her.

"Thank you." She turned around, and managed to find a thick, woolen hat with a large orange C on the top.

The three of them climbed higher and higher into the stadium, passing rows and rows of seats as they went. "We'll be in the fifth box," Lucius told them. "The Notts are in the second, so we shall stop by and say hello to them at some point."

Nott... Bethany vaguely knew of a Theodore Nott in her year. He was a scrawny boy, with a build similar to Harry's. Unlike most other Slytherins, he kept to himself and was quiet. Bethany had seen him with Blaise Zabini often though, and suspected they were close friends.

True to his word, they stopped by the second box, Lucius rapping his serpent head cane against the door. A heavy set man with a thick brown mustache and a goatee answered. "Ah, Lucius," he said, smiling pleasantly. "How wonderful to see you."

"Indeed," said Lucius, wearing the arrogant smile she had seen displayed so many times before. "I remembered you would be here today and I thought I might stop by and say hello."

"I'm glad you did," he said, leaning across the door. Inside, Bethany saw the outline of Theodore, leaning across the table and staring out the large window. He seemed bored. "And who is this with you?"

"This Bethany Riddle," said Lucius. "I assume you remember her?"

"Remember her? Well, of course I do!" The man's stiffness was replaced by geniality. He stuck out a giant hand. "It's marvelous to see you again, Bethany— of course, you wouldn't remember me. I remember holding you as a baby!"

"It's nice to meet you, too," said Bethany, shaking his hand, a sinking feeling in her stomach. If he had known her as a baby, chances were he had been a Death Eater, or at least known her father—at any rate, she had a feeling he was not a very nice man.

"You'll know my boy Theo, of course— he's a few months older than you, born in February," said Mr. Nott. He stepped out of the way, further revealing Theodore. His hair was long on top, and he lazily raised a hand to wave.

"Yes, we're in the same year at school," Bethany said politely. In truth, she doubted Theodore even knew who she was, apart from anything his father may have told him.

Mr. Nott grinned. "And how are you doing today, Draco?"

"Fine," Draco responded sullenly. Bethany wanted to roll her eyes. Was he still sore about what she had said about Pansy?

"Good, good," Mr. Nott said, either not properly reading Draco's mood or ignoring it. "You know, Lucius, he's a spitting image of you when you were that age."

"Yes," Lucius said, glancing at his son. "Well, it was nice to see you, Sextimus, but we ought to get going—"

Bethany, much to her horror, let out a laugh, which she tried to cover up as a cough. She hid her face in her elbow, where giggles continued to escape her. Who named their child _Sextimus_?

"—we need to go to our own box— come along, Draco, Bethany—" And with that, Lucius whisked them away before the Notts could reply.

As soon as they departed, Bethany let her laughter out. "Are you going to tell me what is so funny?" Lucius asked her, clearly annoyed and mortified.

Bethany shook her head, giggles escaped her. It was dumb, she knew, as well as incredibly childish but... _Sextimus._

Draco, who was clearly irritated with her, said, "She's obviously laughing at his name, Father."

"Why?" Lucius frowned. "What in the name of Merlin is so funny about the name Sextimus Nott?"

At this, Bethany clapped a hand to her mouth and began laughing harder. Really, it had stopped being funny minutes ago, but for whatever reason, she couldn't stop. Every time she thought about it, she started laughing again.

Lucius's eyes widened as he caught on. "Stop laughing!" He hissed, his eyes darting around, as if others could possibly know why she was currently in hysterics.

"I'm trying!"

"Well, try harder!" He seemed absolutely horrified.

Eventually, her laughter subsided, and the game began after they reached their box. The Falcons were a fierce team, and they weren't afraid to resort to violence. Lucius and Draco cheered when the Falcon's beater hit the Cannons' seeker with his bat and nearly knocked the poor man off the broom. Bethany was instantly reminded of why she had disliked them so much.

The Falcons won, 330 to 10, which put Draco and Lucius in high spirits. Bethany, who still barely understood anything about Quidditch followed them excitedly as they walked down by the locker room.

"What are we doing here?"

"We're meeting the players, of course!" Lucius said, as if it were an every day occurrence.

Bethany stood around while Draco chattered onto Sherman Wiggs, the seeker, about his own experiences as a seeker on the Quidditch team. Lucius managed to regale his own Quidditch days with Lyle Silvers, the team's beater. As cool as it was to say she had met the players of the Falcons, Bethany really had little to discuss with them.

Off to the side, she spied a Cannon's player with a #1 on his back, walking around. Bethany's eyes widened. She reached into the bag where the Cannons hat sat, and retrieved the piece of parchment used as a receipt. She ran up to him. "Sir— excuse me, sir— you are the keeper of the Cannons, right? I'm sorry, I don't understand much about Quidditch, but I like watching it."

The man gave her a curious look. "I am the keeper, yes," he said, eyeing her gray jumper.

"Excellent! My best friend is a huge fan, you see, and I was wondering if you would sign this for me!" Bethany held out the receipt.

"Of course," the man said, taking the parchment and pulling out a quill. "What is his name?"

"Ron Weasley, sir!"

The man wrote his name— Ulysses Williams, according to the signature, and handed it back to you. "Thank you very much, sir! You did well today!" Bethany said.

She returned to Lucius and Draco. Draco had seen the exchange and asked, "What were you doing? He's a Cannons player!"

"I found got the perfect gift for Ron!" Bethany said, grinning. "There, now I am set on presents for Christmas _and_ his birthday!"

Draco scowled. "I don't understand how you think Pansy is bad when you hang around filth like the Weasleys. That autograph you got him is probably worth more than their whole house!"

"And _I_ don't understand why you would want to be friends with someone like Pansy, when you know full well she wouldn't associate with you if your father weren't as wealthy as he is!" She snapped.

Draco opened his mouth, ready to fire back when Lucius reappeared and said, "Are you two ready to leave?"

"Yes," the said in unison, only to glower at one another.

Lucius let out a sigh. "Grab ahold of my arms," he said, and with a crack, they Apparated away.


	10. Chapter Nine: The Stars Were Worlds

**Momento Mori**

**Chapter Nine: The Stars Were Worlds**

Bethany and Draco hadn't spoken to one another since their disagreement at the Quidditch game. Bethany had no regrets; if she had to live with him (or his whole family, for that matter), she would not put up with the abuse they threw malignantly at Ron, Harry, Hermione, or any of their families. Her friends were more important to her than all the gold in the Malfoy's vault at Gringott's. And Bethany was alright with that. She certainly wasn't about to apologize for it, anyway.

Narcissa, however, found the discord unacceptable. One morning she had brought Bethany into their music room, where Draco was sitting on the bench, playing a piece that didn't sound familiar to Bethany. Perhaps it was a wizarding composer?

"Well done, Draco!" Narcissa congratulated him, "That piece is sounding wonderful. Saylor, isn't it?"

"Yes, Mother."

Bethany pointedly ignored him, instead watching the dust particles dancing through the air as they were exposed to sunlight from the open window. What was the word for that again? Mite? Or was it—

"Bethany?"

"Yes?" She said, paying attention once more.

"I was just saying that it would be _wonderful_ if you and Draco would practice a song together," Narcissa said. "We have plenty of vocal music, and I think it would be a great way for the two of you to bond."

A quick glance at Draco told Bethany that he was as thrilled by the idea as she was. "Well, I wouldn't want to take away from any time Draco could be using to practice for Quidditch—"

"Nonsense!" Narcissa insisted. "I think it would be worthwhile for the two of you practice this. Draco has never accompanied anybody before, this will be new for him!"

And so that was how Narcissa had decided that every day, Draco and Bethany were to spend an hour working on some unspecified song. It was something Bethany was certain filled them both with disgust, but nothing could be done when Narcissa's mind was made.

* * *

The following day, Bethany and Draco were wordlessly searching through several files of music, looking for one that could possibly work. Many of them were in foreign languages, and a majority of them were by artists she had never heard of. Saylor, Grandley, and Fawcett were just a few she could name.

"Here's one," Draco held it up.

Bethany took it from him before handing it back with a scowl. "This is written for a bass!"

Draco put it back, grumbling something Bethany sure was unpleasant.

Finally, they managed to find a piece of music written for a mezzo soprano titled _If There Were Dreams To Sell_ by John Ireland. All the lyrics were in English, which made thing simpler for Bethany, and it wasn't a long song—which, hopefully, meant they would be forced to spend as little time as possible together.

Only fifteen minutes had passed, so Draco took the music and began playing the accompaniment. "Why aren't you singing?" He asked almost instantly, turning around on his bench to glower at her.

"You haven't given me my notes! I thought maybe you were practicing for yourself!"

"So you want me to play _your_ notes?"

"Yes!" Bethany said. "That's what my voice teacher at school did!"

Draco groaned. Staring at the music, he hit a white key. "This is your first note," he said. He hit another. "And here is your second—"

"You know that you can just play what is written there for a given phrase, right?" He gave her a blank look. "Look—" she leaned over his shoulder, and pointed. "The part where it says 'If there were dreams to sell/ What would you buy?' If you just play that whole part, so I can hear it, then play it with me singing, then we could move onto the next set of words."

"Well, if I'm supposed to do all this for you, when am I supposed to learn _my_ part?"

"Once I know my part well enough, you can start playing yours," she explained calmly, but inside she was seething. He was getting on her nerves. "Your mother is making us practice every day, so I am sure you'll have enough time to learn it."

He sighed, and played the section she requested while she hummed along. She sang along, voice cracking when she went for the highest note. "You sang that wrong," Draco said once he finished, a devilish smile of satisfaction on his face.

"I _am_ aware!" Her face had gone beet red. "I haven't properly warmed up!"

Draco shrugged. "Okay. Warm up, then." He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the wooden part of the piano.

Bethany shook her head. "No. Since this time is _so_ important to you, we needn't waste it. Just play it again for me, please."

He played it again, and she sang it perfectly. They continued on. Once they reached the middle however, Draco halted his playing and said, "That last note was flat. And you are messing up the rhythm."

Bethany wanted to scream. "Can you play it again for me, please?" She asked in a level voice, refusing to betray her feelings of annoyance.

Draco sighed and played it again. She sang it back, but this time he snapped, "Now you're sharp!"

Bethany groaned. This was going to be longest summer of her life.

* * *

Over time, it grew easier. Bethany had to begrudgingly admit, Narcissa's plan had worked. They were now able to hold civil conversation once more. It became almost unspoken rule between the two of them to not mention their respective friends, and if they were mentioned, it was in passing and the other simply would not comment. Overall, the Manor became a harmonious place to live in as a result.

Bethany wrote every other day to her friends, updating them on what was going on in her life. She had managed to alleviate their largest fears, but she tried to be as honest as possible. She professed that while the family, as a whole, expressed views that were repugnant to her, they treated her well. She didn't tell them about anything Lucius or Draco had said about the Weasleys—there was no point in them hearing such vile things— nor did she discuss anything she had gleaned about Draco's private life with them. Just as their lives were none of his business, his life was none of theirs.

And it wasn't just Bethany's relationship with Draco that was improving. Narcissa and Lucius adored her, and they did whatever they could to make her happy. Narcissa would always make a point to have conversations with Bethany, asking her about her life experiences, hobbies, favorite things, and even friends. Even though she knew Narcissa disapproved of Ron, Hermione, and Harry, she never voiced it nor made any facial expressions to indicate her true feelings.

Lucius was also doing what he could to earn her favor. Nearly every night, he came home with something new for her and Draco; sweets, a book or two, even a few magazines. In many ways, Bethany reviled how obvious it was he was trying to buy her affections, but it came from such a genuine place that Bethany could not bring herself to judge him too harshly.

Each night, they all gathered at the long dinner table and enjoyed a meal prepared by Batty and Winnie. Bethany always whispered her thanks to the elf that served her, which boosted their spirits considerably.

On this particular night, Lucius wiped his lips with his dark green napkin after drinking a sip of wine. "I have some very good news for us all," Lucius said. His hand reached out to cover Narcissa's. "We will be leaving for Rome by the end of the week."

Bethany's eyes widened. She had never left the country before.

"Rome?" Draco frowned. "I thought we were going to France this year!"

"Maybe next year, Draco," Lucius said calmly. "I have business I must attend to in Rome, and I am certain you will enjoy yourself there just as much as you would in France."

Draco let out a loud sigh, slumping forward. Bethany was surprised that Narcissa wasn't chastising him for it— but she was even more surprised by his reaction. She was overjoyed at the prospect of traveling.

Almost immediately after dinner, Bethany began packing her trunk full of clothes and books.

"What are you doing?"

Draco was standing in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. He was scowling at her.

"I'm packing," said Bethany, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Why?"

"Why not?"

He shrugged wordlessly. "So what makes France so great?" Bethany asked, sitting down on her trunk.

"What?"

"You clearly would rather go to France than Rome. I just wondered why."

"Oh," said Draco, eyes widening. "Because the ancestral Malfoy home is in France. Malfoys didn't come here until the 1100s, and we were originally from France. Father, Mother, and I used to go every summer. Then Father got busy at the Ministry and we haven't gone on many trips since then, and anytime we do, we always end up going to stupid places like _Rome._ "

"Rome isn't stupid!" Bethany insisted. "It was one of the most prosperous societies of the ancient world! The fact so much of it remains is wonderful!" Bethany could see that Draco was ignoring what she was saying, and added, "But I am sure France is fascinating as well. What do you like so much about it?"

Draco shrugged. "I don't know. We have a larger Quidditch pitch in the back, and we're more isolated out there. We usually hosted parties there, too."

Bethany tried to imagine this place he was describing, with little success. The best she was able to conjure up was a larger sized Malfoy Manor. "Well, hopefully you'll go there next year. I mean, we. I would like to visit it," she said.

Draco's spirits seemed to brighten. "So...if I asked Father to let us go to France, would you help me convince him?"

"What? No! I want to go to Rome, too!" Bethany said. "Besides, you heard him— he has to go for work."

"He doesn't _have_ to do anything," Draco responded with another scowl. "We have more than enough gold in Gringotts. Dad could quit working at any point in time, and we would be fine. He just wants to make as many connections as he possibly can." He stepped into Bethany's room, settling against the wall. "When _I_ own the Manor, I'm not going to work. Well, not at the Ministry anyways."

"Where would you want to work?" Bethany asked, curious. Even though she had been part of the wizarding world for two years, nearing three, she had no idea what sort of careers she could pursue once she finished school.

Draco shrugged. "I like Quidditch," he said, "that would be fun. But I probably would never get to play it professionally."

"Why not? You're a good Seeker," Bethany asked.

"Not as good as _Potter_ ," Draco spat, but unlike any other time he spoke of Harry, Bethany sensed it was out of genuine sadness. "I didn't catch the Snitch when I was up against him."

"You just let yourself get distracted," Bethany said. "I remember that game. You were too busy taunting Harry, and you didn't have notice the Snitch. And besides, it was only your first year. You have..." (she counted in her head quickly) "five more years left. As long as you focus on what you're doing, I think you stand a good chance." Truthfully, Bethany believed Harry was the superior Quidditch player. But at the same time, she had grown to have a certain affection for Draco Malfoy. Was he the most pleasant person to be around? No. But he could be a nice person, when he chose to be. And right now, he was choosing to be.

"So what do you want to be?" Draco asked Bethany.

It was Bethany's turn to shrug. "I don't know. To be perfectly honest, I don't know what sorts of careers are available for me in the wizarding world. I assume I'll end up working for the Ministry in some way, shape or form. I just don't know know what options there are."

"There's a lot of departments," Draco stated, "and that could help you narrow it down. I don't know. It just sounds boring to me."

"That's understandable."

"You could work at Saint Mungo's. I know you're good at potions," said Draco. "They have potioneers there, brewing things for sick people. Or you could just work for an apothecary."

That did sound intriguing. But how... "How do you know I'm good with potions?"

"Severus told me," Draco replied.

"Who is Severus?"

"Professor Snape," he answered. He grinned. "He's my godfather. Didn't you know?"

"I didn't," said Bethany. That would explain a great deal of his loyalty to the Malfoys. Bethany wondered how he would know them so well.

"Yeah, he told my dad we were his two best students," Draco said with a grin. "He thinks we're better than Granger."

"That's not true," Bethany said instantly. "Hermione's the top of our class. Besides, she brewed a—" She nearly said 'Polyjuice potion' before quickly realizing just who she was talking to and said, "um, a highly difficult potion last year. I helped her out, just for fun, but it was mainly Hermione."

"Well the reason Granger scores better on tests is because she practically memorizes the bloody textbook," Draco said with a scowl. "You and I though, we actually have an innate ability for the subject."

"What do you mean?"

"We're naturals," Draco said. "Your mum was good at potions, right? That what Mother always told me."

"Yeah."

"Well, so were both of my parents. Father was better than Mother, but she's not bad. And your father was the top of his class—"

"So?" She cut him off, how wanting to hear anything more about _him._

"So it's all in our blood," Draco stated, standing in front of her now. "We inherited it. And being good at something boils down to more than just reading some book about it. Magic is something that you can feel inside of you, and lot of it is instinct."

Bethany nodded. It was an interesting point of view, and it wasn't one she could wholly dismiss. "You have a point, but shouldn't that mean Hermione really is better than us?If she performs better on tests and does not have the supposed genetic advantage, doesn't that mean she ultimately is better at it than we are, since she worked harder to excel at it?"

"Some might see it that way, but if it were down to you and her, brewing the same potion, and you didn't have the book in front of you, I think you'd do better at it. You'd be relying on instinct," said Draco. "What potion did you two brew last year, anyway?"

"Why does it matter?" Bethany asked defensively. She hoped he had forgotten.

"I'm just curious. Who knows? Maybe I'll have to brew it myself at some point, and I could ask you for help."

The idea of Draco asking for help seemed laughable. Bethany suspected he would rather die than ask somebody else for help. To be fair, Bethany supposed she was the same way. That was probably why Hermione was top of their class; she wasn't afraid to admit when she didn't understand something and required help. She was a better student.

"I doubt you'll need to brew this position," Bethany said.

"Oh, come on! Just tell me!" Draco whined. "It's not like I'll tell anybody!"

"You wouldn't?" Bethany quirked an eyebrow up. "Even if it meant my friends would get in trouble?"

"Well, if I did that, _you_ would get in trouble, too," Draco pointed out.

Bethany was surprised. She didn't realize that she had somehow earned Draco Malfoy's loyalty. Was it because of who her father was, or did he genuinely view her as a friend? At any rate, Bethany found herself sighing and saying, "We brewed Polyjuice potion."

His brow knitted together. "Why would you..." His eyes widened as his jaw dropped. "That was you! In the Slytherin common room!" He pointed at her accusingly. "I knew that wasn't Pansy!"

Bethany gave him a weak smile. "Damn," she said with a small laugh. "I guess I should work on my acting skills—"

"Why were you doing that, anyway?" He asked. "And was that Weasley and Potter with you?"

"...yeah," she said with another sigh. "We— well, no, not we— _they_ thought you were the heir to Slytherin. So I got hair from Pansy, and the boys got hair from Crabbe and Goyle."

"How?"

"Um, the boys left out sweets with a Sleeping potion in them, and I ripped out some of Pansy's hair during our fight in the greenhouse," Bethany explained.

Draco's face broke into a grin, as if he had solved some sort of mystery. "So that's why you started that fight!"

"Yeah—"

"I thought that was strange," he continued. "You don't usually get involved in that sort of thing. What about the Mu— er, Granger? Did she just brew the potion?"

"Uh... yeah." There was no way Bethany was about to tell him about her accidental transfiguration into a half cat creature. Even though he wasn't going to snitch on them, he would most certainly taunt her if he knew what had transpired.

"I knew somebody had used Polyjuice potion, and I figured Potter was behind it, I just didn't realize _you_ were involved in it. I thought maybe Granger was impersonating Pansy."

"Nope, that was me," said Bethany. "Apparently, I wasn't as stealthy as I tried to be."

Draco shrugged. "You had me fooled, at first," he admitted. "It wasn't until you ran out of the Common Room like that with Potter and Weasley that I knew something was wrong. That, and the fact that Pansy was gone the rest of break and told me she never came back."

"I'll make a note of that," said Bethany with a grin. "Just in case I ever need to impersonate Pansy ever again."

Draco grimaced. "Please don't. That would be...just ask me yourself."

"Oh. Yeah. I suppose that is an option now," Bethany said, laughing at herself.

"That was always an option," said Draco, looking as though he wanted to roll his eyes. "You know, just because you hang out around a bunch of Muggle lovers doesn't mean I hate you."

Bethany blinked. 'I don't hate you' seemed like it was Draco Malfoy's version of 'I love you'. At any rate, it seemed like a much nicer statement than it really was. "I don't hate you, either," said Bethany, giving him a smile.

* * *

At the end of the week, the Malfoys and Bethany had left the Manor for Rome. They had taken several Portkeys, while the house elves simply Apparated their luggage to the hotel. Bethany wondered why they were bothering with the time consuming process that was taking Portkey after Portkey after Portkey when they could have Side Along Apparated with Winnie and Batty, but she supposed there was some sort of law that prevented such a thing. At any rate, it was interesting to see the streets of Amsterdam, the beaches of Monaco, and the Vatican, even if it was for the briefest of moments.

Finally, the four of them reached the outside of _L'hotel dei Maghi Barbuti._ "Here we are!" Lucius proclaimed, wrapping an arm around Narcissa's shoulders. "We are going to be in room 415—"

They rode up and enchanted elevator, which was operated by an elf who introduced himself as Franco. They were let out on the fourth story and ushered to a room with a gold 415 on the black door.

Bethany's eyes widened as she gazed at the luxury surrounding her. It was ostentatious, really. A crystal chandelier hung overhead, and in the corner a gilded spiral staircase lead up to another level of the suite. There was so much space...the size of the living room alone was at least four of her bedroom at the orphanage.

Later, Narcissa, Draco, and Bethany ventured out and explore the city—namely, the shopping district. Bethany seized the opportunity to buy birthday and Christmas gifts for her other friends, since Ron's gifts were already taken care of. One of the best parts about living with Malfoys was actually having money; she wanted the opportunity to show her friends how much they meant to her, now that she could afford to do so.

Hermione had recently had her ears pierced, so Bethany bought a pair of gold hoop earrings that were a fashionable look in the Muggle world as well. And of course, as it was Hermione, it only seemed right to purchase a book on Roman mythology and how it tied into wizarding culture.

Harry, unfortunately, was more difficult to shop for. Unlike Ron, who had a favorite Quidditch team he supported and Hermione, who had a hobby that she was devoted to, Harry's main interest was Quidditch. And Bethany, despite her best efforts, was clueless when it came to Quidditch.

However, she knew someone who _was_ knowledgeable when it came to Quidditch.

Bethany, Draco, and Narcissa entered a broom shop, and Draco immediately rushed over to a display where a broomstick levitated itself. "Mother, look at this!" he said, pointing to it. "That's a Firebolt!"

Bethany glanced at the broomstick. She didn't see what was so special about it. It looked like any other broomstick to her. "Yes, it's very nice," Narcissa said.

"Can I have it?" He asked, turning around to face her.

"You better ask your father," Narcissa said. "After all, he bought you a perfectly good broom last year."

"Yeah, but this is a _Firebolt_! It's the fastest broom in the world! International Quidditch players are using these!"

"You'll have to convince your father," Narcissa said. "I'm not going to get involved in this."

Draco began mumbling under his breath, and Bethany suspected it was nothing pleasant. Still, she decided to follow him, and see what he gravitated to. He was, after all, a seeker— perhaps he would lead her to the perfect gift for Harry.

Bethany observed as he glanced through broom cleaning kits with a lack of interest. Eventually, he noticed she was following him. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing," she lied, avoiding eye contact by intently studying a scowling, shirtless Quidditch player on a nearby magazine. "I really don't understand Quidditch, so I'm just following you around until you find what you want."

He seemed to accept her answer. "You fancy Viktor Krum, then?"

Her eyes widened once she realized what he was inferring. "No!"

"I think you do," Draco grinned. "You were staring at him as if you did."

"His abs are nice," Bethany responded honestly, her cheeks flushing, "but he's not really my type." And that was true. She'd take Fred over this broody Quidditch player any day, no matter how nice his abs were. Besides, he seemed far too serious for her.

Draco raised his eyebrows in surprise but said nothing more. He continued browsing, and Bethany kept a close eye on what he was examining.

Finally, Draco began inspecting gloves. There were many sorts; dragon hide, faux leather, real Italian leather... "Which sort of glove is the best quality?" Bethany asked him.

"Either the leather or dragon hide," he responded, picking up the dragon hide gloves and inspecting them carefully. "The dragon hide is less expensive, and you can get that anywhere. Since Italy is known for its leather, it's less common back home, but it is ultimately more expensive."

Bethany eyed the leather gloves with interest. It would be something unique, as well as practical. "They are very nice," she commented, reaching for them.

Draco paused, and turned to glare at her. "You're looking for a present for Potter, aren't you?"

"Maybe," Bethany said, paying little interest to him.

"Well, if you are getting him _those_ gloves, then I'm buying _these._ " He stalked off with his new dragon hide gloves up to his mother.

Bethany shrugged. Well, she supposed that decision was made for her then.

* * *

Surprisingly, Bethany managed to find Harry's Christmas gift only a couple of days later. "You know that was a scam, right?" Draco was all but sneering at her as they walked away from vendor she had bought it from. "There's no proof good luck charms work!"

"Draco, hush," Narcissa said, resting a hand on his shoulder. "I think what you selected is very nice, Bethany."

"Thank you," said Bethany, staring down at the small wooden cone.

While they had been browsing through the wizarding shopping district, a vendor had shown Bethany an array of good luck charms. There were a variety of familiar symbols, like a four leaf clover, but Bethany had been intrigued by the object shaped like a chili pepper. The vendor had explained that it was called a cornicello, and it was a common Italian good luck charm to protect against evil. Truth be told, Bethany wasn't superstitious, but she found herself handing the man four Knuts and leaving with a cornicello attached to gold chain.

And who in her life needed more protection than Harry? How many times had he faced off against the Dark Lord? He had been lucky every time so far, but it was better to be safe than sorry. She only hoped he would like it; it was an unconventional gift.

* * *

_Dear Harry,_

_Happy birthday! I hope you like the gloves! I even managed to find some Italian chocolate— hopefully this is higher quality than last years chocolate!_

_I'm so sorry you're stuck with the Dursleys. If I thought I even stood a chance, I would ask the Malfoys_ _to let you stay here, but that would be a hellish experience for you if they even allowed you. It's scary how often I can forget how awful they can be, because they are always so nice to me._

_Since you asked me in your last letter, I'm loving Rome! There is so much to see and do here— I'm even learning a little bit of Italian!_

_As I said earlier, I wish you could be here! As surprisingly nice as my summer has been, it would be even better if I could spend it with you, Ron, and Hermione._

_I can't wait to see you at Hogwarts!_

_Love,_

_Bethany_

* * *

The Malfoys and Bethany had been in Rome now for nearly three weeks. In that time, Bethany and Draco had been supervised by Narcissa anytime they wished to explore the city. It was irksome for them, as they both felt they were old enough to wander out on their own.

Finally, after Draco's relentless persisting, Narcissa allowed the two of them to visit beach ten minutes away from the hotel, under strict orders that they were to stay together.

"Finally!" Draco exclaimed as they left the hotel. "I thought she would never let us out!"

"She's probably just worried," Bethany said, playing with the ends of her hair. "After all, you're her only child."

He groaned. "I know, but she's so paranoid! It's like she thinks I'm going to get grabbed at any moment!"

Bethany raised her eyebrows but said nothing. She wondered if Narcissa's fear stemmed from Bethany's own kidnapping. In that case, their own home had been infiltrated by Professor Snape, one of their closest friends.

Bethany and Draco wandered over to the beach. It was packed full of people, ranging from children splashing in the sea to adults suntanning. "I don't know why people do that," Bethany said quietly to Draco. "Muggle scientists have proven that it can lead to skin cancer!"

Draco ignored her, walking on. "I wish we had thought to bring our swim suits."

"Yeah." The waves from the ocean were almost lazy, and it looked lovely. Coupled with the heat from the blazing sun, today would be the perfect day for a swim. "I almost always burn though."

"I didn't realize you had been to the beach that often," Draco said as they walked down the sidewalk. "I thought you were locked up in the orphanage every summer."

"We used to go to the coast for a couple days when I was younger. That was when there were less kids, so Dana was able to afford it," Bethany told him. "I always used to go into a nearby cave. It was really cool— literally and figuratively."

They kept walking, making small talk, their gaze either on the other, the ocean, or the sidewalk in front of them. It wasn't until they passed an American couple with a Dachsund that Bethany glanced over to see the beach itself. Her eyes widened in horror as she looked away. "OhmyGod!"

"What?" Draco asked, as Bethany grabbed his hand and began turning around. "What's wrong?"

"Don't look!" She all but shrieked, her face growing warm. "That's a nude beach over there!"

"Really?"

"Yes! Don't look!" She yanked him harder when he began turning his head around.

Draco immediately began laughing hysterically. "It's not funny!" Bethany insisted, as he began slowing down. "Stop laughing!"

He didn't stop laughing, and began leaning against a nearby palm tree, with no hope of regaining composure anytime soon.

Finally, Bethany caved and began laughing as well. As embarrassing as it was, it would be better if she could laugh about it instead of feeling humiliated. And really, it was sort of funny. It would make for a good story in the future.

Once the last of the giggles finally escaped them, Bethany and Draco resumed their walking again. "You know, they really should have a sign or something for that," Bethany said, crossing her arms over her chest.

"You mean like that one there?" He pointed to a sign that read _Spiaggia Nudista_ with the words _Nude beach_ written in smaller letters underneath.

Bethany gaped at him. "Why didn't you tell me earlier? That could have spared me from some trauma—"

"I didn't see it earlier! Besides, you weren't traumatized, you just saw a bunch of naked people laying around in the sand—"

"That's easy for you to say!"

The two of them bickered until they reached the hotel once more.

* * *

_Bethany,_

_Dad won the lottery at the Ministry! It's going to be published in the Prophet, but I wanted to let you know firsthand. We're using the money to go Egypt and see Bill!_

_Hope your having a great time in Rome— well, as good a time in Rome as you can, seeing as you're staying with the Malfoys._

— _Ron_

* * *

"Sirius Black escaped from Azkaban," Lucius announced their final morning in Rome as he held the _Prophet_ up. A crazed looking man with tangled hair shook his head at them on the front page.

Narcissa merely sniffed. "Why should I care?" She asked her husband, clearly on edge.

Bethany glanced over to Draco in the seat beside her, wondering if he knew what was going on, but he remained oblivious as he wolfed down his breakfast. She rolled her eyes. Typical.

"It is newsworthy," Lucius said, opening up the pages to read more. "Nobody has ever escaped before."

"I hope he is caught and put straight back into prison!" Narcissa grimaced as she stabbed at her sausage links.

Lucius's eyes widened. "I thought he was your favorite cousin, darling," he said, seeming to forget about Bethany and Draco's presences. By now, Draco was paying attention.

"He is _not_ my cousin!"

Lucius merely nodded. "He was rumored to be serving the Dark Lord before he was arrested," Lucius reached across the table and took her hand. "Of course, I never heard such a thing until after he killed those Muggles. But someone—"

"Lucius, _stop._ " Narcissa's eyes were closed shut. "Stop talking about him."

Lucius hesitantly released her hand, turning back to his paper. Narcissa stood up and went to her room, locking herself inside.

"Why was she so upset?" Bethany asked Draco later, as she packed her trunk.

Draco shook her head. "I don't know. I've never heard of Sirius before." He frowned. "She had a cousin named Regulus, and he died when he was really young. I think he was only eighteen."

"That's sad," Bethany said, shoving a pair of robes inside her trunk without folding it.

"Yeah. Especially since he's known as a traitor."

"What? Why?"

"Your dad wasn't pleased with him. I don't know what he did, but he did something bad. He ended up being killed for it."

Bethany felt ill. "That's awful."

Draco nodded. "Mother told me that she wanted my middle name to be Regulus, after him, but Father told her that your father would be displeased, and that's when he explained what happened to her. Nobody in their family had known what happened to him."

Bethany didn't know what to say other than what had already been said. Only eighteen years old and a Death Eater? It sounded to Bethany as though Regulus had made a rash decision to join and come to regret it. Being branded as a _traitor_ implied that he tried to leave the cause, and paid with his life for it.

"Wait," Draco said suddenly. "Mum has some of the Black family tapestries in Malfoy Manor! Maybe we can find out who Sirius was from that!" He seemed excited, and Bethany couldn't help but feel his enthusiasm.

Once they returned to Malfoy Manor That afternoon, Narcissa immediately retired to her bedroom. Bethany suspected she was still angry with Lucius for mentioning Sirius, whoever he was. Nevertheless, Lucius followed her up to their room— which left Draco and Bethany to explore the Manor without worrying they would be caught.

Draco weaved through the Manor, finally leading her to a room she had not yet been in. "It used to be a bedroom for Muggle servants, but we just keep the tapestries in here now," he told Bethany, opening up the door.

Bethany's eyes widened. Along the walls were tapestries with faces etched onto them, depicting each member of the family with a spidery scrawl beneath labeling who they were. "This one is Mother's grandfather, and Cygnus was my grandfather—" Draco pointed towards a stern faced man with dark hair.

"Did you ever meet them?"

"No," said Draco, staring up at the man. "He died a year before I was born. See?" Indeed, Cygnus Black's lifespan had lasted from April 13, 1927—October 20, 1979.

"He must have went to school with my dad," Bethany commented. "He was born in 1926."

"Huh," Draco said, seeming to not be disturbed by the fact her father was as old as his grandfather. "Oh! There's Regulus!" He pointed.

Bethany followed where his finger was pointing. _Regulus A. Black. June 17, 1961— December 8th, 1979._

"His birthday was the day I was supposed to be born," said Draco. "And he had died right before I was born. So that's why she wanted to name me after him."

That made sense. Her eyes followed a black splotch next to Regulus. "What is that?" She asked, pointing to it.

"That's what the Black did whenever they disowned somebody," said Draco. "Look, See? There's one between my Mum and her sister Bellatrix."

Indeed, between Bellatrix D. Black Lestrange and Narcissa D. Black Malfoy, it was completely blackened. "Her sister Andromeda ran off with a Mud— Muggleborn," he corrected himself quickly. "Her parents were furious."

"So... that might be Sirius up there? The one who was disowned?"

"Probably," said Draco. "It would make sense. She said he wasn't her cousin— and he isn't. Not anymore."

It seemed like such a cruel, callous thing to do, casting a member of your family our because they did not conform to their ideals. But Bethany didn't want to focus on that. "Who is Bellatrix? I've never heard your mother mention her." She pointed to her.

"Bellatrix is my aunt," Draco said. "She's been in Azkaban for years, though. She didn't renounce your dad in public like mine did. Her, her husband, and her brother in law all went to prison."

"How did he get away with it?" Bethany asked. "What if Bellatrix or someone else told the Ministry that your dad was a Death Eater?"

"He told them all he was under the Imperius curse," said Draco. "Bellatrix tried to throw him under the bus, but he had already worked it out what to say with your dad."

Bethany frowned. She had heard of the Imperius before, but she couldn't think of where... "What the Imperius curse?"

"It's one of the three unforgivable curses," said Draco. "It lets you control people into doing whatever you tell them." Bethany's blood suddenly ran cold as she remembered. Her mind wandered back to those fuzzy memories where she had told Ginny what to do, and the young girl had listened to her without questioning. "A lot of former Death Eaters used that as a defense after Father used it," Draco continued on, "which was really stupid of them. Your dad wanted mine to stay out of Azkaban, so he could take care of you, but nobody else had permission to do that. I bet he'll be furious when he returns."

Bethany felt as though her blood was running cold. She never wanted to hear about the supposed return of her father, and coupled with the fact that she might be a criminal, it was too much for her to bear at once. "Can we leave now?" She said, feeling as though all four walls of the room were about to collapse upon her. "I'm not feeling very well."

"Of course," said Draco. "Come on, let's go outside— I've got to practice Quidditch— you can release the Snitch for me."

Bethany nodded, unable to trust her voice to speak. That sounded like a good idea to help take her mind off things.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who has left comments, read, subscribed, and left kudos! It brightens my day to see people enjoying the work I am posting!


	11. Chapter 10: Wrong Side of This Door

**Momento Mori**

**Chapter Ten: Wrong Side of This Door**

If Bethany had thought her last birthday was exciting, she didn't know what to call the Malfoys' idea of celebrating a birthday. Firstly, they woke her up at 8 in the morning so she could enjoy one of the few breakfast foods she enjoyed; pancakes. After that, they showered her with numerous gifts; everything ranging from fashionable Italian robes, books, a gold painted figurine of an elephant, a throw blanket with designs of the sun and moon, a pair of pink slippers, books full of scores from Muggle musical theatre, and a music box that played _Edelweiss_ from _The Sound of Music_ that she had admired in an Italian tourist shop. Bethany was overwhelmed by all the gifts— 37, if she counted correctly.

"And, finally," Lucius said, rising from his seat. "We have one more gift for you."

Bethany wondered what they could possibly give her now that they hadn't given her already. As much as she appreciated their generosity, this was bordering on excess.

Lucius left the room, only to come back with a gilded cage with a small, white owl. The owl blinked at her with its wide, yellow eyes. "Happy birthday, Bethany."

Bethany gaped open mouthed at the tiny owl. "It's so little," she said without thinking.

"She's still young," Lucius told her as she walked towards the cage, smiling at the owl in awe. "The owner of Eeylops said that she was hatched seven weeks ago. It will be a month or so before she will be able to carry letters, but you can send letters home from Draco's owl in the meantime."

Bethany beamed up at him. "Thank you so much! She's adorable! And thank you, too!" Bethany turned around to look at Narcissa.

"You don't have to thank us," Narcissa said, looking pleased.

 _But I do_ , thought Bethany. As nice as it was to have what she wanted, she doubted she would ever forget what it was like to live in that orphanage, where Dana had hardly enough money to support them all. And in a way, she didn't want to forget. She didn't want to become somebody who took wealth or status for granted, or think that she was better than anyone else because of the Malfoy's money. At the end of the day, she was the same Bethany Riddle; she just had significantly more possessions to her name than she had before.

Bethany spent nearly the rest of her day with her small owl. She knew how to fly already, but she couldn't go very far. She flew circles around Bethany's bedroom before landing next to Bethany and hopping into her lap. Much to her surprise, the owl was rather affectionate, and seemed to enjoy being held. Bethany wondered if the workers at Eeylops had cuddled all the baby owls and had fostered the habit. Either way, Bethany loved this tiny owl.

"I told Father not to get you that owl."

Bethany whirled around from her spot on the floor. Draco was leaned against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest. The statement was a little more than hurtful. "Why not?" She asked, incredulous. "I like her!"

"It looks like Potter's owl!" Draco insisted. "You don't want an owl just like Potter's! But he had already bought it." He scowled at this.

"I don't care if she looks like Hedwig," Bethany turned away from him, petting to downy feathers on top of her owl's head. "I still like her."

"Father wanted to have a party today," said Draco, stepping into Bethany's room. "He wanted to invite the Parkinsons, Greengrasses, Goyles, Crabbes, Bulstrodes, and Notts over."

Bethany all but winced. To be honest, she couldn't think of a worse birthday experience than that. "I stopped him," Draco continued on. "So you're welcome."

"Thank you," Bethany said, and she meant it. Spending the day trying to make conversation with Gregory Goyle or—God forbid— seeing Pansy's face, would mark this birthday as a new low, with the cons vastly outweighing the pros.

"What are you going to name it?" asked Draco as he stood beside the tiny owl, who was currently hopping on the floor.

"I was thinking about calling her Khione," Bethany said.

He frowned. "Khione?"

"Yes. After the Greek goddess of snow. Since, you know, she's a snowy owl."

"That seems a little clichéd to me."

"How many owls do you know named Khione?"

He shrugged. "Whatever. It's your owl."

"Exactly," said Bethany defensively. Honestly, who was he to talk? His name was from Greek mythology, after all! She glared at his shiny black shoes as he walked across the room and flopped across her bed.

"What electives are you taking this year? I just realized I never asked."

"Ancient Runes and Care of Magical Creatures," Bethany said, frowning. What on Earth was he doing? That was her bed! She said nothing though, merely staring at the wooden floor.

"Oh, nice," he said. "I'm taking Care of Magical Creatures as well. We'll probably have that class together."

"Cool. What other class are you taking?"

"Divination."

"Oh." Bethany decided not to mention that Ron, Harry, and Hermione were taking those courses as well. There were lots of things Bethany did not bother mentioning to Draco—like how Harry had accidentally blown his Aunt Marge up or how Ron had hilariously called Harry on the telephone and screamed while talking to Vernon Dursley. However, there was one thing she did want to ask him... "Hypothetical question: would there be a way to take all five elective courses?"

Draco shrugged as he sat up. "Maybe, if none of the times conflicted. If they did, you could use a Timeturner, but you would have to get special permission from the Ministry. Why do you ask?"

"Just curious," she lied. The last thing she needed was Draco prying into Hermione's academics. Bethany had hardly been able to believe it when Hermione had proudly informed her that she would be taking every elective offered. Bethany hadn't even realized that it was a possibility, and even though she had no desire to take Muggle Studies or Arithmancy (it sounded too much like mathematics, a subject she had loathed at her Muggle school), there was a part of her that was jealous Hermione would be gaining even more knowledge about the wizarding world. "I was wondering if I could end up taking Divination as well," she said when Draco gave her a suspicious look. "But I know you are only supposed to sign up for two courses."

"You could send a letter to your head of house," said Draco thoughtfully. "Actually, I might do the same thing. I wanted to take Ancient Runes as well."

Bethany's eyes widened. Things were spiraling out of control before her eyes. What if Draco ended up in all her elective classes? School Draco and Manor Draco were two different people, and she preferred one significantly to the other. "I think it will be a fun course," she said, hoping he wouldn't enthusiastically agree.

"Well, I've been giving it some thought, and if I want to beat Granger, I should take more classes than her. If you did so, too, then we could be at the top of the class!" Draco grinned. "Come on, let's write our letters!"

And so that was how she ended up writing a letter Professor Flitwick, requesting respectfully to be placed in Divination as well as her two other classes. Draco tied own his letter to Aloysius's leg, and did the same for her. The owl flew off. "I hope we didn't write them too late," Bethany lied. In fact, she was hoping very much for that outcome. "They might not be able to squeeze us in."

Draco made a noise of amusement. "Of course they will. Professor Snape will do anything to make sure I can get into the classes I want. And if Flitwick doesn't let you into Divination, I'll tell Professor Snape myself and he can make sure you end up in that class."

Bethany watched the owl as it grew smaller and smaller off in the distance with a sinking feeling. Draco, she knew with absolute certainty, was right.

* * *

Upon climbing aboard the Hogwarts Express, Bethany informed Draco of her plans to find and sit with her friends. He merely shrugged and said, "See you later," before taking off in pursuit of locating Crabbe and Goyle.

Bethany was glad when she finally found her friends, though she was surprised to see their compartment was occupied by one more person. "Who's he?" She asked quietly after all greeted each other in hushed voices. The 'he' in question was a sleeping man—an actual adult.

"Professor R.J. Lupin," Hermione said, nodding to the briefcase beside him. "We think he's the new Defense teacher."

Bethany nodded. That made sense.

Reluctantly, Hermione sat beside R.J. Lupin, scooted as far away as possible. Ron, Harry, and Bethany shared the seat across from the two of them, which was a cramped set up. Bethany was leaned forward, hardly able to move her arms between the two boys. "Harry, what was it you were going to tell us?" Ron asked.

Harry then explained that Mr. Weasley has told him that Sirius Black, the mass murderer who had recently escaped Azkaban, was likely searching for Harry.

Hermione was horrified by this long speech. "Sirius Black escaped to come after you? Oh, Harry... you'll have to be really, really careful. don't go looking for trouble, Harry—"

"I don't go looking for trouble. Trouble usually finds me."

Ron shook his head. "Besides, how thick would Harry have to be to go looking for a nutter who wants to kill him?"

"He's related to Mrs. Malfoy somehow," Bethany offered, realizing that it didn't make much of a difference, but still wanting to share the information she found. "She used to be a Black."

"That would make sense though, wouldn't it?" Ron asked. "I mean, the Malfoy's served You-Know-Who, so she could have relatives that did the same." Ron then grinned. "It would explain why Malfoy's so mental, wouldn't it?"

"Why wouldn't she mention him, though? I would imagine that Mrs. Malfoy would be proud of her cousin if he really was serving You-Know-Who," Hermione mused, ignoring Ron's last comment.

"He was disowned," said Bethany, staring down at her new shiny shoes. "I'm not sure why... and she wouldn't mention it if he was working for... well, You-Know-Who. I don't like talking about him, for obvious reasons."

"Oh, yes, of course!" Hermione's eyes widened. "We're sorry, Bethany— we won't mention him again—"

"No, it's alright," Bethany gave her a gentle smile, even though her insides felt as though there were a million worms squirming about. "We can't live our lives pretending he doesn't exist for my sake. After all, he's after Harry."

"If you're sure—"

"I'm positive," said Bethany. "Besides, it makes me feel better to realize that you were able to forget we were related," she said with a smile.

"We didn't forget," Ron said instantly. "Well, I mean, we did, but we didn't— it's just— you're not evil, so it makes it easy for it to slip your mind. But we remember things about you!"

Bethany resisted laughing as she gave Ron a smile.

They talked the rest of the time about more pleasant subjects— Hogsmeade, for instance, the magical town that everyone third year and up was able to visit once they had permission from their legal guardians— but Ron, Hermione, and Bethany's excitement dampened when Harry told him that he would be unable to go with them, as his Uncle Vernon and Cornelius Fudge had refused to sign his slip.

"You're not allowed to come? No way!" Ron was outraged. "McGonagall or somebody will give you permission to come—"

Just then, the compartment door slid open. "Oh, good," Draco peered in through the door. "You found Potty and the Weasel."

Bethany scowled. Seriously? They weren't even to Hogwarts yet and Draco was already going to try and ruin the harmony they had maintained the majority of the summer? "Can't you come up with an better insults? You're just wasting our time by bursting in here with lame, unimaginative rubbish like that."

Draco ignored her, focusing in on Ron. "I heard your father got his hands on some gold this summer. Did your mother die of shock?"

Ron stood up quickly, knocking the basket where Hermione's new cat was resting onto the floor. This prompted the professor to stir in his sleep; Draco raised his eyebrows at the sleeping man. "Who's that?"

"New teacher," Harry was hardly able to resist smirking. "You were saying, Malfoy?"

Draco said nothing, and scrambled out of the corridor with Crabbe and Goyle following behind him. "How did you manage to live with _him_ for three months?" Ron asked Bethany, with disgust.

"I'm wondering the same thing," said Bethany, starting at the compartment door in disgust. In truth, she _did_ know they had maintained their camaraderie by not mentioning their friends, but she didn't want to share that with her friends. She didn't want them to think that she was ashamed of them in any way, and she didn't want them to grow angry or feel poorly about themselves by hearing the nasty things Draco had said about them at the beginning of summer. It was best, Bethany found, for her life at the Malfoys and her life with her friends to not mix.

Night began to fall as the sky grew darker and darker. The rain began to fall even harder. Bethany, who was growing sore and stiff from her currently uncomfortable position, began to feel rather sleepy. She had always loved the sound of rain lulling her to sleep. The wind outside had grown violent, roaring and sending the rain drops to hit against the windows loudly.

The lights of the lanterns flickered inside the compartment. "We must be nearly there," said Ron, looking out the window into the black horizon.

"We can't be there yet," Hermione said as she checked her watch.

"Then why are we stopping?"

The train had begun to slow down. The lights flickered. Bethany tensed up. This was like a scene from a Muggle horror movie. She glanced about nervously as the rain grew louder. Soon, the train came to a halt and lights went out, bathing them all in darkness.

"What's going on?"

"Ouch! Ron, that was my foot!"

"D'you think we've broken down?"

"Maybe."

Ron began wiping off the window. "There's something moving out there," he reported. "I think people are coming aboard."

People? What sort of people would be boarding the Hogwarts Express late at night in the pouring rain? Bethany tried moving to the window to investigate for herself, but she ended up tripping over the new professor's legs. "Sorry!" She whispered in his general direction, hoping she hadn't awoken him.

The compartment door opened and Neville's voice said, "Sorry, d'you know what's going on? Ouch! Sorry!" He appeared to have tripped over something—or likely, somebody.

"Hullo, Neville," said Harry, and the rustling noises told her she was helping him up.

"Harry, is that you? What's happening?"

"No idea— sit down—"

A yelp and an angry hiss sounded a second later; Neville had tried to sit on Crookshanks.

"Well, I'm going to go ask the driver what is going on," Hermione said as Bethany sat down between Harry and Ron again. Bethany nodded, feeling stupid when she realized Hermione couldn't see her. The door opened once more, and there was a thud and two noises of pain.

"Hermione, are you alright?" Bethany asked.

"I'm fine," Hermione groaned.

"Bethany, is that you?"

"Yeah," said Bethany, not recognizing the second voice.

"Ginny, what are you doing here?" Ron asked.

"I was looking for you!" The second voice said.

"Well, come here, and sit down," said Hermione, helping the younger girl in.

"Not here!" Harry cried out as Ginny attempted to sit on his lap. "I'm here!"

"Ouch!" Neville yelped as Ginny lurched forward and stepped on his foot.

"Quiet!"

The final voice was a new one. Bethany winced. Apparently, Professor Lupin has woken up. She hoped it had nothing to do with her tripping over him, though she suspected it had.

A strange crackling noise sounded throughout the compartment. Professor Lupin was holding what looked like flames in his hand and rose to his feet. "Stay where you are," he ordered them. He moved to the compartment door, but it slid open before her could open it himself.

A large, cloaked figure stood, illuminated by Professor Lupin's flames. Its face was not visible, but one decrepit, pale hand was exposed for a moment before being withdrawn inside its cloak.

The creature turned itself on Harry, and breathed deeply. A chill swept through the entire compartment, causing Bethany to shudder. It felt as icy as a day in midwinter. It numbed her.

Harry's eyes rolled back into his head and he began twitching violently. "Harry!" Bethany cried out, wanting to help him, but paralyzed by fear. Harry fell out of the seat, onto the floor, where the creature examined him carefully.

It was then Professor Lupin drew his wand and walked up to the creature. "None of us are hiding Sirius Black under our robes. Go."

It stared at him, not moving. Bethany watched the scene unfold, too frightened to look away. Finally, he muttered something, and something silver escaped his wand. The creature flew out of the compartment, and the chill left with it.

Everyone sat in silence. Bethany held her breath. Was it all over or not?

The lights flickered once, then came back on. The six students were frozen, wearing matching expressions of horror. "Is Harry okay?" Ginny finally broke the silence, staring down at him.

"He will be alright," said Professor Lupin, who bent down to inspect him. "I suspect he will be rather shaken when he wakes up."

Bethany nodded, but wasn't really able to process what was happening or what he was saying. Professor Lupin stood back up, looking through his pockets for something.

The train roared back to life, and with it, Ron knelt down at Harry's side. Bethany and Hermione followed suit. "Harry! Harry, wake up!"

Ron slapped his face lightly. "What did you do that for?" Hermione asked Ron, scowling.

"I'm just trying to wake him up!"

Hermione shook her head, but didn't object when he did it a second time.

Harry's eyelids fluttered. "Harry, are you okay?" Bethany asked, speaking for the first time since the frightening creature had finally left them.

Harry blinked at them, reaching up to adjust his glasses. He looked pale and sickly; Bethany hadn't seen him looking so ill since Lockhart had vanished the bones in his arm.

Ron and Hermione heaved Harry back onto his seat, while Bethany hung back, unable to take her eyes off of him. "Are you alright?" Hermione asked him.

Harry gulped. "Yeah... what happened? Where's that— that thing? Who screamed?"

"Harry, nobody screamed," Bethany said, exchanging a concerned look with Ron.

Harry looked around the compartment. "But I heard screaming—"

There was a loud snapping sound that caused everyone to jump. Professor Lupin had a large chocolate bar, which he was breaking a piece off of. "Here," he handed a large piece to Harry. "Eat. You'll feel better."

Harry accepted it, but didn't eat it. "What was that thing?"

"A Dementor," said Professor Lupin, who handed a slab of chocolate to Bethany, who thanked him before taking a bite. "One of the Dementors from Azkaban." He gave Ron a slice of chocolate now.

Everyone was in too much shock to respond. Bethany, at the moment, couldn't presently remember anything about Dementors that she may have read about in _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_. "Eat," Professor Lupin repeated, now crumpling up the wrapper, "It'll help. I need to speak to the driver now, excuse me." And with that, he left their compartment.

* * *

Bethany resisted the urge to shudder when their coach passed two floating Dementors. Her eyes darted nervously towards Harry, worried he would pass out yet again.

The coach drew to a halt, and Ron, Hermione, Harry, and Bethany stepped out. The coach moved forward, pulled by an invisible force. Bethany wondered if it was a rare invisible horse or if the coaches were simply enchanted to move on their own.

"You fainted, Potter? Is Longbottom telling

the truth? You actually fainted?" Draco shoved past Hermione so that he could taunt Harry.

"Draco, go away!" Bethany scowled at him. "You're being annoying!"

Draco smirked. "I'm just checking up on Potter's well-being," he said innocently. "Did you faint as well, Weasley?"

"Shove off, Malfoy, nobody wants you here—"

"Bethany does."

"I do _not_ , especially when you are being rude to my friends. Go away!"

With great reluctance and a smirk, Draco left. "See you later!" He called out.

She merely rolled her eyes in response.

* * *

"Since when are you taking Divination?" Ron asked the next day as Bethany joined them in search of the North Tower.

"Since Draco convinced me to do it," said Bethany, making sure the book was in her bag. "I may have told him I was interested in taking it."

"Are you?" Harry asked.

"Kind of?" Bethany couldn't say she _wasn't_ interested in how to predict the future, but at the same time, she was worried about what the future might entail for her. That, and she was worried than an increased work load would only bring her high levels of stress and poor marks.

The four of them managed to climb the ladder up into the classroom. Each table had three chairs... meaning one of them was likely to be left out. Bethany had a sinking feeling she knew who that person would be as Ron and Harry sat down. Hermione stood back, nervously exchanging a glance with Bethany. Before Bethany could speak, she heard someone say "Bethany!"

She turned around, finding Draco sitting at a circular table with Crabbe and Goyle. "Come sit here!"

"There's only three chairs!" She hissed back.

"Get up, Goyle," he snapped, and the burly boy picked up his bag and moved to an empty table near by. "There."

Bethany shrugged. "I suppose I'll go sit by him," she said lowly to Hermione.

"Are you sure?" Hermione whispered back, eyes darting over to Draco. "I can always sit somewhere else—"

"No. I'll be alright." And she would be. She supposed she could survive a single class period with him.

Bethany sat her belongings at the empty chair beside Draco. "If you say one nasty thing about any of my friends, I'm leaving," she told him. "Clear?"

"Crystal."

"Good," said Bethany, shifting in her chair.

"That means you can't say anything nasty about my friends, either," said Draco, grinning as if he caught her.

"I wasn't planning on it."

"Well...good."

The lesson soon commenced, and Bethany had the distinct impression that Professor Trelawney was somewhat mad. She warned Parvati to stay away from red haired men and informed the class that one member would be leaving the class forever. Soon, she told them to split off into pairs and practicing reading tea leaves. Bethany tried to meet Hermione's eye, but Draco said, "Crabbe, pair up with Goyle. I want to work with Bethany."

Bethany gave him a quizzical look. "Why do you want to work with me?"

"Do you know how awful it is working on school assignments with those two?" Draco hissed, glancing behind him to make sure they hadn't heard. "They might be my friends, but they haven't got any brain cells between the two of them. Besides, you and I don't have many classes together."

"We have... four together, this year," said Bethany, counting them quickly in her head. "That's more than we've had before."

"That's true," Draco said, standing up. "I'll fetch our tea cups."

He returned a few minutes later, with two blue tea cups full of steaming tea. Bethany felt the hot liquid burning her hands through the cup as she blew on it. "It's hot," she commented.

"What do you expect? It's tea!" Draco retorted. He took a sip before nearly spitting it out. "It burned my tongue!"

"It's hot. What do you expect?" Bethany quipped. Thankfully, Draco was able to take the joke and grinned. After a few more moments, they drank the tea (which was still too hot for Bethany's liking) and swapped cups.

Bethany took _Unfogging the Future_ and stared down at the shape in the bottom of Draco's cup. "Um... It looks like a bear," Bethany said. Her eyes scanned the guide, "and the book says that means you'll have a lot of gold..."

"As if I didn't know that already," Draco leaned back in his chair, looking bored.

"Hold on, if I turn it this way, it looks like a flower, and that means... you'll marry your true love," said Bethany. She grinned at him. "Good news for Pansy, then?"

"I'm not in love with Pansy! And I told you not to be rude to my friends!"

"I'm not being rude," said Bethany. "Well, anyway, looks like a bright future for you."

"Do you see anything else?" Draco asked, sitting on the edge of his chair.

"Uh, let's see... it kind of looks like a brooch from this angle, and that means... you'll be related to someone powerful." She shrugged. "Maybe your future wife will be the Minister of Magic."

Draco grimaced. "Well, whoever she is, I hope she doesn't look like anything like Cornelius Fudge."

Bethany let out a loud laugh, which drew the attention from the others in the class room and Professor Trelawney gave her a sharp look. "Sorry," she said quietly.

Draco looked into her cup. "Yours looks like a... a pine tree, from this angle. And that means... you'll go through great suffering."

"Great," Bethany groaned.

"But now it looks like a thimble," said Draco, twisting the cup a full 180 degrees, "and that means you're going to make a lot of mistakes before anything goes right." His brow furrowed. "This isn't looking so good for you."

Bethany sighed. Honestly, she had expected something like this. All doom and gloom. It was hardly a shocker, once you took into account who her father was. "Is there anything else I need to be worried about? Nothing there about me getting murdered, is there?" She asked, only half joking.

"Yeah," said Draco, craning his head to the side. "This sort of looks like an umbrella which means..." he frowned at the book. "You're going to marry your true love, too!"

Her eyes widened. "Really?" She grinned. Finally, something good! The image of walking down an aisle with Fred waiting for her at the altar popped into her head unbidden.

"That's what it says!" Draco pointed to it in the book and Bethany peered over the table to get a better look.

"Aw! We should have a double wedding!" She teased him.

Draco mimed vomiting, and Bethany began laughing again, albeit quieter than the last time. "What is going on over here?" Professor Trelawney asked, lips pursed. She stood beside Draco, her eyes darting between the two of them.

"Nothing, Professor," Draco said innocently as Bethany regained her composure.

She frowned and asked , "May I see that cup?"

Draco handed it to her and she examined it, shaking her head and tutting. "Oh, no," she murmured. "You're going to lead a very difficult life, my dear."

"Don't worry," Bethany said brightly, even though she hated the reminder, "I'm used to it."

"Torn between two sides—" the Professor continued, now staring at Bethany, "—pulled in each direction..."

Bethany squirmed uncomfortably. Listening the professor speak was too much.

"May I see what is inside his cup?" Professor Trelawney held out her hand after she gave Bethany's cup back to Draco.

Bethany handed it to her. "It said he was going have a pretty good future."

"Yes," Professor Trelawney agreed absentmindedly, "But at what cost?"

Draco and Bethany exchanged mirror looks of confusion. Maybe she _was_ mad... "You'll see terrible, terrible things, my dear."

The professor lost interest in them and moved over to Ron and Harry. "What did that mean?" Draco hissed.

"I don't know!"

"I thought my future was supposed to be good!" He lamented, staring down at the tea cup.

"Well, she didn't say it wasn't going to be good," Bethany pointed out, trying to ease his mind. "Maybe some bad things will happen to you, and then you'll be rich and powerful and married."

"Either that, or she is making it all up," Draco muttered.

"Maybe."

Professor Trelawney let out a scream. Neville's teacup shattered. All eyes in the classroom snapped to the Professor, who was staring in horror at Harry's teacup.

"My dear— you have the Grim!"

* * *

Transfiguration was next, and Professor McGonagall managed to calm the Divination students down by telling them that Professor Trelawney predicted the death of a student every year. "I think Divination is a bit woolly," said Hermione as she scanned through her book. "A lot of guesswork, if you ask me."

"There was nothing woolly about the Grim in that cup!" Ron insisted. He had not taken Professor McGonagall's word and wholeheartedly believed the Grim had appeared inside Harry's teacup.

"You didn't seem so confident when you were telling Harry it was a sheep!"

Ron refused to let it go. "Professor Trelawney said you didn't have the right aura! You just don't like being bad at something for a change!"

Bethany winced. Draco had muttered something similar to her after Professor Trelawney had spoken those words, which earned him a blazing glare. These words also provoked a negative reaction from Hermione as she slammed her book shut with great ferocity. Bethany and Harry exchanged a fearful glance; neither of them had ever seen Hermione this angry.

"If being good at Divination means I have to pretend to see death omens in a lump of tea leaves, I'm not sure I'll be studying it much longer! That lesson was absolute rubbish compared with my Arithmancy class!"

Bethany's eyes widened. She had been with Hermione in all her classes so far, had only had Divination and Transfiguration... Draco's Timeturner theory must be correct.

"What are you talking about?" Ron called out loudly as Hermione sped past them until she joined the massive crowd of students in front of them. "She hasn't had Arithmancy yet!"

"Maybe she misspoke," said Bethany quietly. If Hermione hadn't told them about it yet, there was probably a legitimate reason for it.

Hermione was waiting for them, avoiding eye contact with Ron. He was equally sullen, arms crossed over his chest as he pointedly looked everywhere but at her. Draco was there as well, in animated conversation with Crabbe and Goyle.

It wasn't long before Hagrid appeared. Bethany was glad to see their friend was in high spirits today. Really, this job seemed perfect for him. She couldn't think of anyone who was more passionate about Magical Creatures than Hagrid. "Everyone gather 'round the fence here!" he called. "That's it— make sure yeh can see— now, firs' thing yeh'll want ter do is open yer books—"

"How?"

Bethany didn't have to turn around to know it was Draco. Over the summer, they had both attempted to read the textbook, only to risk dismemberment. Draco had began muttering curses under his breath, saying that only a moron would assign such a dangerous book to students. At the time, Bethany had readily agreed with him; it was something that now filled her with shame.

"Eh?"

"How do we open our books?" Draco pulled his own book out of his bag.

"Hasn'— hasn' anyone bin able ter open their books?" Hagrid appeared devastated. It was with guilt that Bethany shook her head while various other students voiced their agreement. "Yeh've got to stroke them. Look—"

Hagrid took Hermione's textbook and demonstrated it to them. "Oh, how silly we've all been!" Draco sneered. "We should have just stroked them! Why didn't we guess?"

"I—I thought they were funny," Hagrid glanced around hesitantly.

"Oh, tremendously funny! Really witty, giving us books that try and rip our hands off!"

"Oh, just shut up," Bethany whispered, knowing Draco couldn't hear her, but needing some way to express her rage. Draco's constant berating was clearly making Hagrid insecure, and she was desperately hoping his first day of teaching would go well. After all that had happened to him last year, Hagrid deserved something good to happen to him.

Draco's comments didn't stop. A few minutes later, Bethany heard him loudly exclaim, "God, this place is going to the dogs! That oaf teaching classes, my father'll have a fit when I tell him—"

"Shut up, Malfoy!" Harry finally snapped.

"Careful, Potter, there's a Dementor behind you!"

Bethany turned around and grabbed Draco by the arm. He made noises of protest, but Bethany ignored him. "You're being— you're being a real arse, you know that?"

"You can't say things like this," he said with a smirk. "Mother would be scandalized to hear you speaking like that."

"Well, it's a good thing she isn't here right now to scold me for it," Bethany said. In a genuine plea, she asked, "Can you just stop, for a minute? I really don't appreciate you treating my friends this way."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Fine," he grumbled.

"Good." She releases her grip and ran back up to meet with her friends once more.

"What did you say?" Harry asked, turning around to look at Draco.

"I just told him to back off and quit being such a jerk."

"And he listened?"

Bethany shrugged. "It worked well enough this morning."

"He did seem awfully quiet in Divination," Ron mused.

A strong, winged creature appeared. Hagrid explained to the class that it was a Hippogriff. They were particularly proud and intelligent creature and would bring harm to those who did not respect them.

Harry volunteered to pet the Hipporgriff (which Hagrid had told them was named Buckbeak) first, and the class watched with anticipation as he bowed. A few moments later, after some hesitation, Buckbeak bowed back. Harry then flew him around the paddock.

"Okay, who else wants a go?" Hagrid asked.

"Harry, that was brilliant!" Bethany whispered as he rejoined them.

"It was, mate—"

"This is very easy," Bethany heard Draco drawl loudly. Her focus shifted away from Harry and into the paddock, where Draco was standing in front of Buckbeak with Crabbe and Goyle lingering behind him. "I knew it must have been, if Potter could do it... I bet you're not dangerous at all," he said to the hippogriff. "Are you, you great ugly brute?"

Before Bethany could process how unbelievably stupid Draco's actions had been or defend the Hippogriff, Draco was knocked to the ground as Buckbeak scratched him. He let out a scream of pain.

"Oh my God!" Bethany cried out. Before she could evaluate the risks of her actions, Bethany leaped over the fence of the paddock, ignoring Hermione and Ron's protestations. "Draco, are you alright?" There was a gash in his arm, and blood poured out of the wound.

"I'm dying!" He wailed. "I'm dying, look at me! It's killed me!"

"Yer not dyin'!" Bethany heard Hagrid shout behind her. "Somebody help me— gotta get him outta here—"

Hagrid appeared by her side and picked up Draco with ease. Bethany watched as Draco flinched in pain. She ran to keep up with Hagrid, and the rest of the class followed behind.

"He should be fired straight away!"

"It was Malfoy's fault!"

Once they reached the castle, Bethany turned around and told her friends that she ought to go with Draco. "His parents will probably show up, and I want to make sure they hear what really happened. And I want to make sure he'll be okay."

"I'm sure he will. Let us know," Hermione said kindly.

Bethany gave them a grateful smile before turning and running to catch up with Hagrid.


	12. Chapter 11: A Blighted One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Several quotes from this chapter are taken directly from Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban.

**Momento Mori**

**Chapter Eleven: A Blighted One**

"How could such a thing have happened?" Lucius looked murderous, looking around the hospital wing as if Buckbeak were hiding around a corner for him to attack. Narcissa was in tears, hugging Draco fiercely. "Which teacher do have to make sure is fired?"

"We were in Care of Magical Creatures," Bethany spoke up timidly. "But it wasn't Hagrid's fault!"

"Hagrid?" Lucius shook his head, sneering. "I can't believe Hogwarts is still employing that oaf. It was bad enough they kept him on as long as they did as a games keeper, now they've hired him as a teacher!"

"It wasn't Hagrid's fault!" Bethany repeated, growing more and more frustrated. "He should have been paying more attention to what was going on, but—"

"You're right," Lucius interrupted her. "This isn't his fault. It's that damnable Hippogriff's fault!"

"No! Lucius, please!" Bethany pleaded. "I was there, and I saw what happened. Draco insulted it, and that's why it attacked him."

"So you're saying he deserved it?"

"No, of course not! I'm just saying that Hagrid told us—"

"That creature needs to be put down," Lucius said, now in a measured voice. "Clearly, if it is prone to violent bursts of anger, it is unsafe for innocent children to be around in school."

Bethany gaped. "But you can't! Buckbeak—"

"Is a dangerous animal," Lucius responded. "I understand that you have some sort of attachment to Hagrid for reasons I cannot understand, but you must understand it is for your safety and Draco's that I must insist he be stripped of his job and for that creature to be put to death."

Bethany was speechless. It was too horrible to contemplate. She had been certain that if she explained that Draco had not been listening and prompted the accident to happen that Lucius would not pursue to tear down Hagrid's career.

"Please don't."

"I must," Lucius said. "I know this isn't what you want to hear, but I can't risk having you get hurt the same way Draco has."

Before Bethany could object with some sort of outburst, Narcissa managed to pull herself away from Draco to wrap her arms around Bethany. "Thank you so much for staying with him!" She said, sniffling. "It means so much to me to know that you care about Draco!"

"Of course," Bethany responded automatically, still shocked by Lucius's harsh words. "He's my friend."

Narcissa stared down at the girl with tears glistening in her eyes. "You are such a sweet girl. He appreciated you staying, you know. He told me so."

"I'm glad," said Bethany, even though she could never imagine Draco saying anything like that. "I just wanted to make sure he was okay, and that he wouldn't get too bored staying down here."

"Yes, of course. He told me some of his friends came to see him."

Bethany resisted the urge to grimace. Pansy, Crabbe, and Goyle had been order out by Madame Pomfrey as soon as Draco had been admitted (Bethany was only permitted to stay at Draco's request and with assurance she would assist Madame Pomfrey), but they reappeared during dinner. In this time, Bethany had excused herself to grab her dinner, but had promised Draco she would return.

"They did," she told Narcissa. "I think he was glad to see them."

"I think so, too."

"I went and saw my friends during dinner and let them know he was alright. They had been worried about him, too," said Bethany, hoping this would convince Narcissa to think better of them. In truth, Hermione was the only one concerned over whether or not Draco's injuries were life threatening or not— Harry and Ron were mostly concerned about if it meant Hagrid would lose his job.

"How kind of them," Narcissa replied with a tight lipped smile.

"Yes," said Lucius, who apparently had overheard. He was now at Draco's side. "Very kind indeed. Please pass on our thanks to them."

Bethany was surprised, but nodded and said, "I will."

* * *

"Alright, everyone, books away— you won't be needing them," Professor Lupin said as he took to the front of the classroom. "Just your wands for today."

Bethany's eyes widened. They had never had a class of Defense Against Dark Arts that allowed them to actually practice magic instead of reading about it. "Come along, then," said the Professor. "We shall be taking a field trip today."

"What do you think we're doing?"

"I bet we're going to the Forbidden Forest!"

"We can't go to the Forbidden Forest, you idiot, it's forbidden!"

The Ravenclaws followed Professor Lupin until they reached the staff room. There was a long table, with mismatched chairs and an old wardrobe in the corner. "Today we shall be learning how to dispel Boggarts," he announced. "They like small enclosed spaces, much like the wardrobe here." He slapped a hand against its side, prompting the creature within it to jump around in protest. "Can anybody tell me what a Boggart is?"

Nine hands raised up into the air. "It's a creature that can transform into our greatest fears," answered Michael Corner, beaming with pride.

"Excellent response, Michael," said Professor Lupin. "So nobody knows what a Boggart's true form is, as it only assumes that of what it believes you will fear the most. That means we have an advantage over it. Does anybody know why?"

Bethany raised her hand, but Professor Lupin called on Isobel MacDougal who said, "There are many of us and therefore many fears, which will mean it will likely become confused."

"Correct," Professor Lupin said. "Now there is a simple charm that will help you get rid of a Boggart, but what truly defeats it is laughter. This charm will help you alter the appearance of your Boggart into something comical.

"Now, I want you all to say the spell aloud without waving your wands: _Riddikulus._ "

" _Riddikulus,_ " the Ravenclaws said in unison.

"Very good," Professor Lupin nodded encouragingly. "That was the easiest part. It is very hard to face your greatest fears, and the word itself is not enough. It requires tremendous mental strength to banish a Boggart away. Does anyone want to volunteer?"

Nobody raised their hand. Professor Lupin grinned. "I suppose that was a silly question, wasn't it? Lisa, why don't you come here?"

Lisa Turpin walked up hesitantly beside Professor Lupin. "Now Lisa, what do you believe is your greatest fear?"

"Clowns," she said immediately. Anthony, Michael, and Padma began laughing. "Shut up! They're terrifying!"

"They really are," Bethany agreed, trying to help the girl feel more at ease.

"Clowns, then?" Professor Lupin tapped a finger against his temple. "That's a tricky one indeed. What is something a clown could do that would make you laugh, Lisa?"

"If it fell on its face," the girl responded in a deadpan, earning snickers from the rest of the Ravenclaws.

"Then I want you to envision just that when you cast the spell," Professor Lupin told her. "If Lisa is successful, the Boggart will attempt to face off against the rest of us. I want you all to think of a way to make your Boggart something you can laugh at."

Bethany frowned. All her life, she had been afraid of heights. How on Earth was that supposed to manifest itself into a Boggart? And how would she make it funny?

Before she could think about it any further, Professor Lupin opened the doors to the wardrobe and a tall clown that Bethany was almost certain came from Stephen King's _It_ stepped out. Lisa, who had gone pale, gripped her wand and cried out, " _Riddikulus_!"

The clown fell on its face and let out a groan of pain. Lisa smiled, relishing in her victory. "Su, you're next!"

There was a crack as Su stepped up and an electric eel began wriggling around on the floor. " _Riddikulus!_ " With another crack, it grew wings and began floating about the room gracefully.

"Terry, foreword!"

The Boggart transformed itself into the Wicked Witch of the West. " _Riddikulus!_ " He shouted, her emerald skin turned fuchsia.

"Your turn now, Bethany!"

Bethany gave a start and moved in front of the wardrobe. Still confused as to how she was going to make her fear of heights funny, she gripped her wand and tried to ignore her sweaty hands.

With a crack, the Boggart transformed, but it wasn't a look into the world from a higher view. It was her father, looking just as he had that day in the Chamber, smirking as he twirled her wand in his right hand. "You're just like me, Bethany," he drawled.

"Attack it! Now!" Professor Lupin cried out beside her.

" _R-Riddikulus!_ " Bethany stuttered, closing her eyes and imagining him dressed in pink robes and doing a hand stand. Judging by laughs that elicited from her peers, she had succeeded.

"Excellent! Mandy, you're next!"

Bethany rejoined her peers, feeling her heart pounding in her chest. Her mouth was dry. "Why were you so scared of that guy?" Padma Patil leaned over and asked her. "He was hot!"

Bethany felt disgusted, on a multitude of levels. Of course, logically she realized Padma wasn't to know that had been her father who also happened to be Lord Voldemort, but it was revolting nonetheless. "He's an awful person and that's all you need to know," Bethany responded, trying not to be too short with the other girl.

Padma nodded understandingly and watched as Mandy Brockelhurst made a large bear ride a unicycle while wearing a party hat.

* * *

"The Malfoys wanted me to tell you that they're grateful that you cared so much about Draco's wellbeing," said Bethany when she met up with them before lunch.

"Is that right?" Ron all but sneered. "Because Harry and I had to spend all of Potions chopping and skinning stuff for that git!"

Bethany's eyes widened. "He's back in classes already?" Madame Pomfrey had said yesterday that he was going to have to stay overnight.

"Yeah, and he came in gloating about how his father is going to have Buckbeak executed and have Hagrid sacked," Harry said darkly.

Bethany's mouth fell open. "I can't believe he's on board with this!" She said incredulously. "Listen, don't worry about Hagrid or Buckbeak, I'll make sure nothing happens—"

"Save it, Bethany!" Ron exclaimed.

"Don't listen to him," Hermione scowled. "He's been in a bad mood all day."

"Yeah, because I had to give my roots to Malfoy!"

"I'm going to talk to him and convince him to persuade Lucius to drop all this," Bethany said seriously.

Ron rolled his eyes, causing Bethany to exchange an irritated look with Hermione.

* * *

That evening, Bethany appeared in Professor Snape's office for her first Occlumency lesson. "Tell me all prior knowledge you have of the subject," he began after they exchanged pleasantries.

"I only know what you told me last year, sir. I would have normally done more reading on the subject, but I had a busy summer."

"I heard," he said with a smile. "Rome, was it?"

"Yes, sir. I had a great time."

"So you have been enjoying your time with the Malfoys?"

"For the most part, yes," said Bethany. "I don't agree with all of their views, though."

"As I am sure you have gathered based on my previous actions, I don't either." They exchanges grins. "However, as I reminded you last year, you mustn't share this information with them."

"Don't worry, I wouldn't," Bethany assured him.

"Good." With that, Professor Snape delved into a more detailed explanation as to what Occlumency was.

"Sir?" Bethany interrupted.

"Yes?"

"Why must I learn Occlumency? And if it is such a valuable skill, then why isn't it a part of the Hogwarts curriculum?"

"The art of Occlumency is a difficult one to master," he stated. "It requires tremendous mental strength. I, however, wholeheartedly believe you shall be able to embrace the challenges it offers you." He then let out a heavy sigh. "Your father is the most powerful Legimens that world has ever seen," he confessed to her. She felt herself growing pale. "He has already made attempts to infiltrate Hogwarts twice now, and he will likely continue to do so. If he is ever restored to strength, he will try to invade your mind and seek out vital information regarding Harry Potter."

Bethany stared wide eyed at her Professor. "Oh," was all she managed.

"I know it seems daunting," he said, in a kinder tone, "but soon, it will become second nature to you."

Bethany nodded, gulping.

"The first thing you must do is clear your mind," Professor Snape began. "Do not dwell on any anxieties. Take a deep breath in, and think of absolutely nothing."

Bethany closed her eyes and did as he said. But who was he kidding? She was a Ravenclaw! The whole point of being a Ravenclaw was to think— and overthink. How else was she supposed to solve problems? Was she just going to have to sit silently and shut everything off if she was to ever—

" _Legimens!_ "

An assortment of memories surged throughout her mind. She was in Muggle primary school, ignoring the girls behind her as they whispered to one another. She was sitting in her bed in the orphanage, paging through _Lord of the Flies_. Fiona Reilly screamed at her as Bethany held a thin garter snake in her hands.

And suddenly, she was back in the dungeon.

"I'm sorry, Professor!" She gasped, realizing she had made a mistake. "I'm so sorry!"

"It's alright, Bethany," Professor Snape said as he lowered his wand. "You've just learned what can happen when you do exactly the wrong thing. Now you will not make that mistake again."

Bethany nodded, feeling a deep sense of shame. "Are you ready to try again?"

Bethany closed her mind. She pictured a foggy, grey landscape. "Yes," She said finally.

" _Legimens!_ "

She focused on the calm of the nothingness in her mind. While she was acutely aware of the fact Professor Snape was trying to see into her thoughts, she refused to dwell on it.

"Very good," said Professor Snape, releasing the spell. "That was very good for a second attempt."

"Attempt? I thought I had succeeded."

"You did," he said. "However, the spell only lasted a matter of seconds. This is the simplest form of Legimancy against the simplest form of Occlumency."

Bethany deflated. "So... it gets more difficult than that?"

"Beginners to Legimancy will typically cast the spell as I have been doing," he said. "However, your father and other skilled Legimens cast the spell nonverbally and without any movement of a wand."

Bethany felt a chill go down her spine. How many people had she encountered who were able to read into her mind, know her deepest secrets and darkest thoughts? The idea that her father, if he ever returned, could pry inside her mind was too horrible a thought to entertain. "Can we try again?" Bethany asked.

"Of course," Professor Snape withdrew his wand once more. "I believe it would be beneficial for you to practice at least three more times before you return to your dormitory. I would not want you to overwork yourself."

Bethany nodded, but did not think about what he was saying. She did not imagine her four poster bed, nor of the owl that would greet her once she returned.

" _Legimens."_

Bethany pictured her foggy landscape yet again. If she concentrated on it hard enough, she was able to feel to cool mist on her skin.

"Good." She opened her eyes again. Professor Snape was giving her an approving smile. "You have made excellent progress already."

"Thank you, sir. I take it very seriously."

"I'm certain you do."

Bethany readied herself again. She breathed in deeply and then " _Legimens_!"

Before Bethany could think of the image she had been conjuring, he had cast the spell. Taken aback, Bethany saw several more flashes. Draco's bloody arm as Madame Pomfrey tried to wrap it up. Eating chocolate cake with Fred in the kitchens. Tom Riddle appearing in Defense, saying " _You're just like me..."_

"A Weasley?" Bethany felt as though ice cold water had been dumped over her. Professor Snape arched an eyebrow. "Really, Bethany, I would have expected you to have better taste than that."

Bethany felt her face grow red. "Don't tell anyone," she said, feeling humiliated and furious beyond belief. What was wrong with Fred, anyway? She was starting to understand why her friends held a certain amount of distaste for her favorite professor.

"I won't," he said, still wearing the sneer. "But I would encourage you to pursue a worthier suitor. Someone with a modicum of ambition or at least someone who will put effort into their schoolwork."

Bethany breathed in deeply. "Can we practice one more time and be done?" She snapped. "I came here to learn Occlumency, not to be lectured about who I should be friends with."

"Of course. I apologize." Bethany closed her eyes and imagined her landscape once more, ignoring her anger. " _Legimens!_ "

* * *

"You need to write your father," Bethany said when she sat next to Draco the next day in Ancient Runes.

He groped around through his bag, finally procuring a quill. "Why?"

"Because," she began, irritated, as she began searching through her own bag, "he wants Buckbeak to die and for Hagrid to lose his job."

Draco's face flushed. "He deserves to lose his job! You saw the state I was in!"

"It was an accident!"

"As if that matters!" Draco scoffed. "Are you going to try and tell me that that makes a difference? Just because he didn't tell the Hippogriff to attack doesn't mean he isn't responsible."

He watched as Bethany let out a sigh. He knew he had gotten to her. Surely, even in the Muggle world, they had some sort of laws regarding this sort of thing. "Maybe you're right," she admitted lowly. "Maybe he should be held responsible in some way. But— please, don't let your Dad have Buckbeak killed."

"Why does it matter to you?" Draco asked, not understanding why she was campaigning for the life of a wild creature. At first, he had suspected it was because of the influence Potter, Weasley, and Granger wielded over, but it seemed as though she was doing this of her own volition. "It's dangerous!"

"Because he didn't know any better," Bethany explained. "Animals don't have a conscience like humans do. He just heard you insult him and defended himself. I'm not saying it was right," she said hastily, noting his deepened scowl, "I'm just pointing out that he doesn't understand."

"Shouldn't that be all the more reason to have him put down? So he can't hurt anyone else?" Draco pointed out. He glanced down at his bandages arm. He wouldn't be able to use it for another few weeks. It was torturous, really. How was he supposed to crush Potter in Quidditch now?

"He could go to a zoo or something. Or a reserve, like they have for dragons. Or maybe Hagrid could just agree not to show him to classes with third years and only let NEWT level students interact with him," Bethany suggested desperately. "He just... he can't die."

"Why do you care so much over whether or not he lives or dies? It's just an animal!"

"It's still a life. Do you really want to be responsible for the death of a living, breathing creature?" Bethany asked him. Her gaze was stony, but judging by how rapidly she was blinking, Draco assumed she was trying very hard not to cry.

He'd never really thought about the Hippogriff. Sure, it was an ugly brute of a thing, and it injured him, but it was another living thing. "What makes me responsible over whether or not it dies?" Draco asked.

"Because only you can persuade your dad to not let it happen. I've tried," said Bethany, sounding defeated. A quick glance her way showed him that she was staring down at the table.

A silence passed over the two of them. Draco mulled it over in his mind. On the one hand, it would serve Hagrid, Potter, and his friends right if the Hippogriff were to head to the chopping block. On the other... the terrifying image of the Hippogriff being slaughtered was too much for him to bear— and it was all the more horrible by her implication that it would be _his_ fault. "I'll send him a letter tonight," Draco told her quietly. "But," he added, once he saw her perk up, "I'm going to let nature take its course with Hagrid."

Bethany smiled regardless and said, "Thank you."

* * *

It seemed wrong, coming to Hogsmeade without Harry. Bethany had felt more than a little guilt as her, Ron, and Hermione left the castle to visit the village.

"And you've got to try Sugar Quills, they're amazing," Ron raved, encouraging Hermione. The village was now in sight; there was a Main Street, with several businesses alongside it. The train tracks lay adjacent to the street, rarely used.

Bethany was about to agree when Hermione said, "I don't know, Ron. My parents are dentists. I don't know if they would like it if they knew I was eating too many sweets."

"I'm sure a few sweets won't hurt," Bethany told her. Privately, she wondered how it was possible for parents to prohibit their child from the joys of sweets. Narcissa and Lucius practically helped them upon her and Draco.

"Besides, you're a Gryffindor," Ron said with a grin. "You've broken plenty of school rules, and you think your parents are going to care that you tried sweets?"

"Well... my parents don't exactly realize how many school rules I've broken," Hermione admitted, avoiding eye contact from Bethany and Ron.

Bethany's eyes widened while Ron gaped. "Really? You never told them?"

"Not really," Hermione said, biting her lip. "I just didn't want them to be disappointed in me!"

"Nobody would be disappointed in you!" Bethany insisted.

"She's right, Mione—"

"Since when have you ever called me Mione?" Hermione seemed to give a double take.

Ron shrugged. "I don't know. I thought I'd try it out. I'm guessing you don't like it?"

Hermione shrugged. "I'm not particularly used to it. Nobody's ever given me a nickname before." She glanced up and Ron and gave him a smile. "Well, not a nice one, anyway."

"Don't listen to them!" Ron interjected. "Anyone who's being a prat to you is just jealous. They wish they were even half as brilliant as you are."

Bethany watched as a pink hue rose to Hermione's cheeks. "Thank you, Ron. That means a lot." Their eyes met for a brief second before they both glanced away, looking pleased but embarrassed.

It hit Bethany just then; she was third wheeling.

Somehow, she'd always suspected that Ron and Hermione had some sort of attraction to one another, but she had never seen such an obvious display of what she had sensed had been there. While she was happy for them, it always put her in an awkward predicament. She wondered if Harry, who spent more time with them than she did, felt the discomfort as she did right now.

"So, Beth, where do you want to go?"

"Beth?" Hermione spoke up, shocked. "Are we all getting nicknames now?"

"Like I said, I just thought it would be something to try out!"

"I don't mind Beth," Bethany said, grinning, but it fell when she saw the expression on Hermione's face. "Plenty of the people in Ravenclaw call me Beth."

"Well, I know I know I want to visit Scrivenshaft's," Hermione said. "I've heard they have an enormous selection of quills."

Bethany grinned. Only Hermione could be so excited about quills. "I want to try Butterbeer," Bethany said.

"Yeah, we ought to go to the Three Broomsticks," Ron agreed. "It'll be nice, on a day like today." As if to emphasize his point, a cool wind blew from the east.

* * *

" _Legimens!"_

Bethany tried to stay calm, gripping the arms of the chair beside her. The charm he had cast was stronger this time; she having a harder time fighting it. Still, she stared straight ahead, making no grimace and acting as if she were not desperately trying to protect herself.

"Well done," said Professor Snape, releasing the spell as Bethany's leaned back in the chair. "Very impressive indeed."

"Thank you."

"I believe we will be able to move onto me casting it nonverbally next week—"

"What?"

"Does that surprise you?" asked the Professor.

"Yes? I mean, I just started a couple months ago. I thought this was... I mean, I thought it would take me years to learn."

"For some witches and wizards, it can. However," he said, "it comes to some witches and wizards easier than it does to others. For the average witch or wizard, it takes six months."

Bethany blinked. "Really?"

"Yes. Of course. Then again, most witches and wizards who learn Occlumency are doing it to spare themselves for a few minutes while facing off against a powerful wizard interrogating them. However, we shall have to prepare you more thoroughly. We cannot afford for any mistakes to occur."

Bethany nodded, trying not to feel to intimidated. Whenever she practiced Occlumency, she tried to tell herself it was a worst case scenario instead of the inevitable as Professor Snape treated it. The idea of spending days in the presence of the Dark Lord was too dreadful for her to imagine.

* * *

"Blood flavored lollipops?" Bethany glanced at the red lollipops with a disgust. "Who would even eat those?" The three of them were in Honeydukes, searching for some candy for Harry.

"I expect they are for vampires," Hermione said, wearing a matching expression of distaste. "Harry wouldn't want those."

"How about these?" Ron asked, shoving a handful of Cockroach Clusters under Hermione's nose.

"Definitely not," Harry's voice said from behind them.

Bethany whirled around, gasping when she saw Harry. "What are you doing here? You're supposed to be up at the castle!"

"Did you learn how to Apparate?" Ron asked.

"Of course I haven't," Harry said, speaking lowly. "I've got this."

Harry showed them a yellowed map that called itself _The Marauders Map._ Bethany peered down at it, amazed at what she saw. Every room of Hogwarts was charted and it even showed where people were. "This is fascinating, Harry," she breathed. No doubt, this took tremendous skill in order to create.

"Where'd you get it?" Ron asked.

"The twins."

Bethany's eyes widened. She supposed this was how Fred and George had managed to stay out of trouble. "How come Fred and George never gave it to me? I'm their brother!" Ron exclaimed, outraged.

"But Harry isn't going to keep it," Hermione said, speaking for the first time in a while. "He's going to hand it into Professor McGonagall, aren't you, Harry?"

"No, I'm not!"

"Are you mad? Hand in something that good?"

"If I hand it in, I'll have to say where I got it! Filch'll know Fred and George nicked it!" Harry exclaimed.

"But what about Sirius Black?" Hermione insisted.

"I think it's good Harry has the map for that exact reason," Bethany said. "If, God forbid, Sirius Black breaks into the castle again, Harry can know where he is."

"But what if he sneaks in through one of the secret passageways to Hogsmeade? The professors ought to know!"

"What? With all these Dementors looking for him? I doubt he'll risk it," Ron said, pointing to a sign reminding everyone that Dementors were patrolling the village once night fell.

The four of them wandered to the Three Broomsticks, were Ron fetched them glasses full of frothing Butterbeer. "Merry Christmas," Ron cheered and they all clinked their glasses together before drinking.

The door reopened, and much to the surprise of Bethany, Professor McGonagall, Professor Flitwick, Hagrid, and Cornelius Fudge entered the establishment. "Harry, hide!" Bethany whispered as Ron and Hermione began shoving Harry's head and forcing him underneath the table of their booth.

They listened to the conversation that followed carefully— Sirius Black was on the loose and after Harry, so the more information they had about him, the better.

Apparently, Sirius Black had been Harry's dad's best friend and had also been the man who betrayed his parents. He murdered another one his friends, Peter Pettigrew, in cold blood. It was a lot of heavy information, and based on the glances she shared with Ron and Hermione, they were as stunned as she was.

Once the teachers and Fudge left, Harry crawled up from under the table, visibly shaken. "Bloody hell," Ron said finally. "You alright, Harry?"

Harry shook his head mutely, and reached for his Butterbeer. "We should probably head back to the castle soon," said Hermione, glancing out the window as flakes of snow fell from the darkening sky.

Bethany nodded, unable to say anything. As rattled as she was, she couldn't imagine how Harry was feeling right now.

The four of them returned to the castle through the passageway in Honeydukes— while Bethany was worried about getting caught, the secret passage was infinitely warmer than a trek to the castle in the winter. Harry still hadn't spoken— Bethany didn't blame him. She was no stranger to shocking revelations that made one question their entire existence.

"We'll see you later, yeah?" Ron said to Bethany, before stealing a nervous glance go Harry. The dim lights were reflecting off the lenses in his glasses.

"Yeah, of course," said Bethany. Ron nodded while Hermione gave her a small smile. The three Gryffindors turned in the opposite direction to head to their common room.

* * *

"Have ye heard?" Hagrid asked as the four of them stood at the front door of his hut. Tears were streaming down his face.

"Hagrid, what is it?" Hermione questioned as they followed him inside.

Wordlessly, he handed Harry and official looking letter. Harry cleared his throat and read:

"Dear Mr. Hagrid,

Further to our inquiry into the attack by a hippogriff on a student in your class, we have accepted the assurances of Professor Dumbledore that you bear no responsibility for the regrettable incident _."_

"Well that's okay then, Hagrid!" Ron beamed and clapped Hagrid on the back.

Hagrid said nothing but continued sobbing. Hermione glanced at Harry. "Read on," she urged him.

"However, we must register our concern about the hippogriff in question. We have decided to uphold the official complaint of Mr. Lucius Malfoy, and this matter will therefore be taken to the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures. The hearing will take place on April 20th, and we ask you to present yourself and your hippogriff at the Committee's offices in London on that date. In the meantime, the hippogriff should be kept tethered and isolated. Yours in fellowship..."

"But Buckbeak isn't a bad Hippogriff!" Ron said, clearly trying to boost his spirits. "I'm sure he'll get off—"

"Besides," Bethany interjected, "Draco wrote to Lucius and asked him to make sure nothing bad happened to Buckbeak. I'm sure it's just a legal obligation."

Her words brought Hagrid no comfort. "Yeh don' know them gargoyles at the Committee fer the Disposal o' Dangerous Creatures! They've got it in for interestin' creatures!" He wailed even louder now.

It was clear Hagrid was losing all sense of hope. Ron, in what Bethany thought was a sweet gesture, made Hagrid a cup of tea.

"I've not bin meself lately," Hagrid admitted while petting Fang and sniffling. "Worried abou' Buckbeak, an' no one likin' me classes—"

"We like your classes!" Bethany insisted. In truth, none of Hagrid's lessons had been as interesting since the incident with Buckbeak. It had been a letdown to Bethany, who had envisioned riding unicorns or feeding Nifflers. Though none of them had dared say it, she knew her friends felt the same way she did.

"Yeah, they're great!" Ron said, backing her up. "How are the Flobberworms?"

"Dead," Hagrid said bleakly. "Too much lettuce."

Bethany thought she saw Ron's lips quirk up, as if were trying not to smile. "Oh no!"

"An' them dementors make me feel ruddy terrible an' all." He shuddered. "Gotta walk past 'em ev'ry time I want a drink in the Three Broomsticks. 'S like bein' back in Azkaban..." he trailed off, unable to say anymore.

Bethany looked down at her lap. Logically, she knew it wasn't her fault Hagrid had gone to Azkaban, and yet she felt responsible. In fact, she felt responsible for every awful thing her father had done. Anytime she heard in passing about how he had murdered someone's aunt or tortured someone's cousin, she felt inexplicable shame. But in the case of Hagrid, someone she cared for dearly, it made it all the worse. He had been deprived on an education, his wand had been snapped, and years later, he had been incarcerated because of _his_ actions.

And for a short while, Bethany had believed him. She had fallen for his trickery. She was no better than the cruel people who had expelled Hagrid. Bethany had been so deluded, so blinded.

She wondered why he had even tried to convinced her that Hagrid had been the culprit. His whole vision had clearly been some father-daughter team to brutally murder and otherwise harm Muggleborns. So if that had been the case, then why had he bothered pretending as if he cared about her favorite school subjects and acted as if he approved of her friends?

The logical explanation was manipulation, but in that case, than why had revealed his plans to her so drastically and expected her to follow along when everything she believed in contradicted his views? These questions had plagued Bethany's mind the whole year, and still she had found no answers.

Bethany was jolted out of her thoughts by Hagrid's voice as he described Azkaban. Sometimes, Bethany thought, she had the tendency to get lost in her own mind. She leaned forward in her chair, listening to what Hagrid said, and banishing all melancholy thoughts.


	13. Chapter Twelve: Among Things Willed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Several quotes are taken from Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban.

**Momento Mori**

**Chapter Twelve: Among Things Willed**

For the first time ever, Bethany went home for Christmas. It had been with great reluctance that she had left her friends behind, but she was determined to use the time she had at the Manor to encourage Lucius to drop the charges against Buckbeak— that, and to experience Christmas with a family.

She had presented her friends with their Christmas gifts the day before she left when they met in the library. "Open them now," she urged them, excited. "I want to see what you think!"

Ron ripped into his while Hermione delicately unwrapped hers, careful not to crumple the paper. Harry was somewhere it between; tearing at the wrapping paper, but with nowhere near the ferocity of Ron. "A box?" Ron stared at the box.

"Open it up," she prompted him. "Gently, though."

He frowned. "A piece of parchment?" Before Bethany could instruct him to flip it over, he gaped. "Merlin! You—" Astounded, he raced over and hugged her. "His autograph! You got his autograph!"

"You're welcome!" She said, laughing. She hadn't expected such a strong reaction from him.

"Did you get this in Rome?" Hermione asked, examining the book in awe. When Bethany nodded, Hermione grinned and said, "This is wonderful! Thank you so much!" before giving Bethany a hug.

Harry held up the cornicello. "Er, thanks," he said, not looking enthused. Then again, Bethany supposed receiving a necklace wasn't exactly a typical teenage boy would be excited about.

"It's a cornicello," she explained. "I got it in Rome. It's a good luck charm. Seeing as trouble usually finds you, I thought that maybe you'd like it, or that it might be useful." Embarrassed, she added, "It's alright, you don't have to wear it or anything—"

"No, it's brilliant," said Harry, seeming more genuine this time. "Really, thank you."

Christmas itself was a lively affair. The Malfoys actually had a real pine tree set up in their parlor. Draco had woken Bethany up at 5:42 in the morning, eager to see what presents he was receiving— Bethany was certain he was hoping for a Firebolt.

Narcissa and Lucius didn't seem tired in the least as Draco and Bethany opened up their presents with enthusiasm. Bethany wasn't surprised by the large stack of books she opened— _The Rarest Potions, Tales Of Beetle the Bard,_ and _The Complete Biography Of Merlin_ were a few of the titles she received.

"Lucius thought that you might be too old for this book," Narcissa said, pointing to _Tales of Beetle the Bard,_ "They are bedtime stories for children, but I thought you might be interested in them anyway."

"Thank you," said Bethany, admiring it. "It's lovely."

Draco did not receive a Firebolt, but he did get an impressive slew of Quidditch supplies. Bethany had no idea what any of it was intended to do, but he seemed to be pleased with what he had, which made her glad as well— a pouting Draco was not one she wished to spend her time with.

Bethany made several attempts to persuade Lucius to drop all charges against Buckbeak, but he was adamant that Buckbeak was a dangerous animal that must face trial. Dejected, Bethany resolved to make Draco ask him about it a second time. The only other person she knew of who could possibly change his mind was Narcissa, but she was standing by her husband in this affair.

When she returned to Hogwarts, she was dismayed to find discord between her friends. Harry had anonymously been given a Firebolt for Christmas, and Hermione told McGonagall to confiscate it, as she believed it was from Sirius Black. While Bethany understood her concerns, it seemed far fetched her that Sirius Black would spend hundreds of Galleons or risk being caught stealing a Firebolt just to go after Harry. "I think if he is going to try and attack you, he would do it outright," Bethany confided in Harry as they studied for a Transfiguration quiz together.

"Why do you say that?" Harry asked.

She shrugged. "It seems more like his style. I mean, he didn't shy away with Pettigrew."

Harry nodded, and they turned back to their textbooks, speaking no further on the subject.

* * *

"Where's Hermione?" Bethany asked, joining Ron and Harry before Tranfiguration.

"I don't know and I don't care!" Ron's hands clenched into fists.

Bethany gave the boys a questioning look. What happened this time? "Well, have you heard anything on the Firebolt yet?" Bethany directed the question to Harry.

"Nothing was wrong with it," he said, sounding only slightly bitter about it. Bethany raised her eyebrows. Perhaps that was why Ron was so upset with her—

"I can't believe her!" Ron shook his head. "First, she gets Harry's Firebolt taken away for no good reason, then her cat kills Scabbers!"

Bethany's eyes widened. As much as Ron had complained about the old rat, Bethany knew he was grieving his loss. He had diligently been caring for him the entire school year as his health deteriorated. "Oh, Ron, that's horrible! I'm so sorry!"

"Well I'm glad somebody is," Ron shoved his hands into his pockets now, "She didn't even bother apologizing about it!"

Bethany gaped at him. She was surprised that Hermione would be so callous as to disregard Ron's pain. "I'll have a talk with her," Bethany said, "I'm sure—"

"I already tried," Harry interrupted her. "She just got mad at me for it."

Bethany deflated, feeling helpless. Was this how Ron and Hermione's frienship would end? To be honest, she had thought Hermione would have more compassion for Scabbers' demise. It seemed callous for her to not at least apologize for her own pet's actions. Bethany knew that if Khione had done such a thing, she would have felt horrible. At any rate, she was with Ron on this argument.

* * *

Bethany stood by Ron in the stands of the Quidditch match, bundled up in her blue and bronze scarf. "I always feel awkward at these matches," she confided in him as they found their place. "I know I should probably cheer for my own house, but the only reason I'm here is for Harry."

"I suppose that is a problem, isn't it?" Ron said with a grin.

The game went fairly well for Harry (who, Bethany noticed with a wide smile, was wearing a familiar gold chain around his neck), who zoomed across the stadium on his Firebolt. Cho Chang, Ravenclaw's seeker, blocked him from catching the Snitch, which lead to Oliver Wood telling Harry to "knock her off her broom if he had to".

However, as it progressed, Bethany noticed several dark figures on the ground. "What—?" She nudged Ron, pointing at it. "Those— those can't be Dementors?"

"It looks like someone's idea of a joke," Ron looked at them in disgust. "Bet they're trying to get a rise out of Harry—"

At that moment, Harry noticed the fake Dementors and pulled out his wand, yelling something unintelligible. A silver object flew from his wand, blasting all of the people in the Dementor costumes onto the ground. "Wicked!" Ron laughed and stared at Harry in awe.

Bethany had a hard time restraining her laughter, but as soon as Harry caught the Snitch she joined in with the Gryffindors in celebration as they cheered loudly.

"Hey!" Ron pointed back down where the fake Dementors had been staring Bethany looked over and saw—

"What an idiot!" She exclaimed as Ron laughed. Draco's face was peeking out from beneath one of the hoods, along with the rest of the Slytherin Quidditch team.

"I'll bet he feels like a fool now!" Ron said, continuing his laughter as Professor McGonagall reprimanded them. "I wonder what spell Harry cast to make them fall over like that."

"Maybe it's whatever he's been working on with Lupin," Bethany said, biting at her lower lip. "Maybe I should ask Professor Lupin to teach me that spell. I wouldn't mind knocking Draco to the ground sometimes."

* * *

"How?" Bethany asked Hermione. This was one of the few times they had spoken in weeks, only asking one another a few strained questions. It had made the seating situation awkward, and Bethany had been forced to rely on Draco as a study partner outside of class. "I told Draco to tell Lucius—"

"Evidently, his father didn't listen to him or Malfoy never asked," Hermione said bitterly. When she noticed the expression on Bethany's face, she said, "Oh, I don't blame you, Bethany! It's not your fault, you did everything you could."

She was, of course, referring to the Ministry's decision to have Buckbeak executed. "There's going to be an appeal," she added, "and the boys have agreed to help me."

Bethany couldn't help but smile at that. If the boys had fully forgiven Hermione, then she would as well. Their little group was finally back together. "I'll help, too."

Hermione gave her a wide smile.

* * *

Care of Magical Creatures had to be the worst class Hogwarts had to offer. Well, besides Muggle Studies, but that hardly counted as a class. Draco was regretting his choice to take this class, wishing he'd gone for Arithmancy instead if he was going to bother balancing three extracurriculars.

Potter, Weasley, Granger, and Bethany were all huddled around Hagrid, speaking to him in hushed tones. He knew what it was about; Father had told them there was a trial the other day and the Hippogriff was going away for good. It was about time, in Draco's opinion. That creature was a menace. The sooner it was gone, the better.

Hagrid was an absolute mess. He said something about giving the Hippogriff a good life before he ran off to his cabin, sobbing the whole way. "Look at him blubber!" Draco crowed, earning grins from Crabbe and Goyle. Potter has clearly heard him, judging by the murderous glare. Draco continued, saying, "Have you ever seen anything quite so pathetic? And he's supposed to be our teacher!"

Potter and Weasley made moves to attack Draco, but before Draco could draw his wand, Granger was in his face and slapping him as hard as she could across the cheek. "Don't you dare call Hagrid pathetic you foul— you _evil—"_

"Hermione!" Weasley tried to drag her away, but she swung her hand back and drew her wand, pointing it at Draco with fiery eyes.

"C'mon," he muttered to Crabbe and Goyle, eager to escape her. His eyes fell to Bethany, who was standing there silently, hands balled into fists at her side. Her lips were pressed together and she stared at the ground, refusing to look at him. Draco shook it off, and headed for the dungeons.

* * *

Divination was only couple hours later. Draco sat down with Crabbe at their usual table while Goyle slumped down at his own table. Potter, Weasley, Granger, and Bethany were among the last group to enter the classroom, all of the murmuring to one another. Bethany muttered something to them before going to take her place at the table.

"Hello," Draco greeted her. Bethany ignored him, taking her seat. "So you're not going to talk to me, then?" Silence. Draco was more than a little annoyed as he leaned back in his chair. "Fine, then. Be that way."

Professor Trelawney began the lesson soon enough, explaining the supposed complexities of looking into a crystal ball. Draco figured it couldn't be that hard— Trelawney was clearly a fake and she still had her job.

They were then instructed to stare at the ball. Draco rolled his eyes as he leaned forward, looking at the foggy orb in front of them. Crabbe was so close to the ball his nose was practically touching it. Bethany, on the other hand, had her back against the chair with her arms crossed, watching it lazily. "This is stupid," Draco whispered.

"I think I see something," Crabbe said suddenly. Draco looked up, before Crabbe shook his head. "Never mind," he said, embarrassed. "It was just my nose."

Merlin, he was stupid sometimes. Draco rested his head in his hand, staring at the ball, bored. His eyes darted over to Bethany, who looked as if she was about to fall asleep. He moved his foot, tapping her foot. When she didn't respond, he did it again. Still no response, but she did let out a sigh. It was progress. He did it a third time, and felt a foot stomp on his own. "Ouch!" He hissed, moving his foot away. "What did you do that for?"

"Stop playing footsie with me!" Bethany whispered fiercely, finally making eye contact with him.

"Ah! She speaks!"

Before Bethany could respond, Granger exclaimed, "Oh, for goodness' sake, not that ridiculous Grim again!"

All eyes fell to Potter's table. Professor Trelawney was quiet, but it was quite clear she was brimming with anger inside. "I am sorry to say that from the moment you have arrived in this class my dear, it has been apparent that you do not have what the noble art of Divination requires. Indeed, I don't remember ever meeting a student whose mind was so hopelessly mundane."

Draco gaped, torn between laughing or cheering the professor on for finally speaking the truth about Granger. Granger's face grew red before she loudly said, "Fine! Fine! I give up! I'm leaving!" She gathered all her supplies up and left the classroom, never to return again.

* * *

Bethany wandered the hallways after an awful Herbology lesson, en route to Professor Snape's room. The class had been made more bearable now that she and Draco were friends, but since she had stopped speaking to him, he had returned to spending his time with Pansy and the other Slytherins.

Still, she couldn't bring herself to forgive him. He had _promised_ her that he would write a letter to Lucius. Now Buckbeak was going to die, and he had the audacity to taunt Hagrid about it.

"Hey, Bethany!"

She turned around, seeing Fred sprint up towards her. She felt her heart pick up its pace. "Hi," she said, flushing. He'd grown even taller over the summer— her head was now level with his shoulder.

"How've you been? I haven't seen you much this year."

Wasn't that the truth? Bethany had mentally been lamenting on how little time she had been able to spend with him. Then again, she was so shy around him these days. She couldn't initiate a conversation to save her life, so she had been patiently waiting for him to strike up a conversation... which hadn't happened until today.

"It's been good," she said, feeling herself shrinking blush. "I'm taking three electives this year. It's a lot of work."

"I'll bet! Which ones?"

"Divination, Care of Magical Creatures, and Ancient Runes," she listed off.

"George and I took Muggle Studies and Divination," Fred said with a grin. "They're pretty easy."

"Do like it? Muggle Studies, that is?"

He shrugged. "Kinda. It's neat, seeing how much Muggles have figured out how to do on their own. Impressive, really, when you think how we have the advantage."

"Yeah," said Bethany, entranced. Merlin, he could say anything and make it sound good. He had such a nice voice...

"Well, I've got to go— I have to meet up with George and Lee." Bethany felt her heart sink. They had only just started talking... but he was grinning. "I'll see you around, yeah?"

"Of course," she said, and with that he ran off. "Bye," She said, only silence greeting her. She let out a dramatic sigh, and continued walking toward the dungeons.

Bethany pushed open the door to the Potions classroom. "Hello?" She called out.

"Hello, Bethany." Professor Snape appeared from behind his desk. "I was just organizing some paperwork. Please, have a seat."

She obliged. "Tell me about your favorite class," Professor Snape said.

Bethany took in a deep breath. This had become routine, but it was still a difficult task. "I really love Potions," she said, trying not to think of it too much, merely letting the words fall out of her mouth. "It's really interesting and stuff. You've got to be precise so that you don't blow something up on accident. Uh, my Mum was really good at Potions. I assume my dad was too, since he was top of his class, but I don't like talking about him—"

"Stop."

Bethany's posture collapsed. "I messed it up again, didn't I?" It was hardest to block her mind when she had to engage in conversation.

"You were doing well until you mentioned your father."

Bethany groaned. God, even when he wasn't even here he managed to ruin everything. "I saw a memory that I've seen in your mind before," Professor Snape said, frowning. "I sense it's troubling you."

Bethany already had a feeling she knew what it was, but she asked "Which one?" anyway.

"You appear to be standing in front of a young man and he tells you that you are just like him." Bethany nodded. That was it, that was the one that had been plaguing her mind for months now. "Would you like to talk about it?"

Bethany looked up. "That's my dad," she said blankly. "How he used to look, at least. That's the way he looked when I was down in the Chamber."

"I see," Professor Snape said, but Bethany could tell he was shocked. To be fair, Professor had only known him when he was in his fifties. She imagined there was a stark contrast between his younger self and his older self.

"It was my Boggart, sir," Bethany admitted to him. "I didn't know what it would be, but then he showed up."

Professor Snape nodded slowly. "I know I have told you this already, but I find very little similarities between the two of you. I don't want to dismiss your fears, but just because you grew up with the same circumstances does not make you the same person."

Bethany nodded, but wasn't altogether convinced. How could he know for sure, when she wasn't even sure? She would catch herself twirling her wand in the same absentminded way before dropping it as if were covered in slime. She would lay in bed at night, playing out different hypothetical scenarios in her mind, figuring out which one would get her what she wanted. Sure, Professor Snape was able to look through her memories, but he didn't know her soul. He had no way of seeing if any part of her was as twisted as her father was.

"Would you like to try again?" Professor Snape asked.

"Yes."

"Tell me about your favorite song."

"That's a difficult question to answer. My favorite band has always been the Beatles, but I love singing classical music and Broadway showtimes. The first song I ever sang for my voice lessons was from _T_ he _Music Man_..."

* * *

_Dear Draco,_

_How are classes going for you? I sent you some pumpkin pasties and Chocolate Frogs, I do worry about you going hungry at school._

_How are your friends doing? Vincent's mother told me he was enjoying Divination this year. I'm so glad he had found a subject he likes. And Meredith told me that Pansy heard that Granger stormed out of a class the other day. Is it true? I thought she was supposed to be some sort of model student. I wonder what all the professors think about it?_

_I didn't just write to ask about school, dear. I am not worried about Bethany. In her last letter, she told me she wasn't coming home for Easter but she wouldn't tell me why. Can you please convince her to come home? I've missed her very much, and I would hate to not see her until summer time._

_Please write me more letters, you know I miss you terribly._

_Love,_

_Your mother_

Draco shoved the parchment into the pocket of his robes. Bethany hadn't spoken to him since Divination, and he was getting rather tired of it.

Breakfast was still commencing and he could see the back of her head as picked at her food. Draco stood up, walking over. He watched her as she picked at her breakfast, stabbing at a piece of sausage absentmindedly as she stared in direction of the Gryffindor table.

He marched up to her. "Can I talk to you?"

"I don't know, _can_ you?" Bethany asked, still staring off at the Gryffindor table.

Draco followed her gaze to see Granger, Potter, Weasley, and his two older brothers, the twins. "What are you looking at, anyway?" Draco asked. A horrible thought entered his mind. "You don't have a crush on Potter or Weasley, do you?"

"What?" She asked shrilly, snapping to look at him. "No! No, of course not!"

She seemed entirely too insistent to Draco, but he decided to let it go... for now. "Mother wrote to me today. She said you aren't coming home for Easter." When she said nothing and looked down at the bench, he questioned, "Is that true?"

"Yes."

"Why aren't you coming home?" Before she could respond he said, "Look, I don't understand why your so upset with me. I was just having a laugh, you know I don't like Hagrid—"

"It's one thing not to like somebody, but it's another thing entirely to mock them for a tragedy that you caused for them," Bethany replied harshly, eyes stony.

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean your father is having Buckbeak executed!"

Draco shook his head. "That can't be right," Draco said. "I wrote to him. I asked him not to kill it."

"Well, Hagrid is absolutely distraught about it. That's why he was crying." Bethany flared at him. "You'd be upset if someone was going to kill your owl, wouldn't you?"

Draco gulped. It felt as though lead had settled into his stomach. "He told me it was going away," he said quietly. "He didn't tell me he was going to have it killed." The realization his father, the man he had idolized his whole life, had lied to him about something so massive, made him sick to his stomach.

Bethany's expression softened. "I don't blame you. You tried. I know that now. I just... I thought you already knew. That's why I was so upset."

Draco nodded. He understood now. "So are you going to come home for Easter now? Now that you aren't mad at me?"

Bethany bit her her lip before shaking her head. "I can't. Not when I know your dad..." she trailed off, overcome by emotion. "There will be an appeal, but Hagrid doesn't have much hope. And to be honest, I don't either. Hermione, Ron, and I have been scouring all the books in the library and it seems like there's no point in even trying." She slumped over, lower lip trembling.

Draco stared at her as she looked down at her knees. As irksome as she could occasionally be, he had grown used to Bethany's company at Malfoy Manor. All his life, he had heard stories from his parents about Bethany Riddle, the girl who had been taken from them. He remembered playing by himself in his room, thinking about how he would be having much more fun if he could only have someone to play with. Being an only child was exceptionally lonely; Draco didn't know of he could handle a holiday season without Bethany's presence. She was the missing piece of the puzzle to their family. "Then I'll stay here too."

Bethany's mouth fell open as she looked at him. "Really?"

"Yeah," he shrugged, trying to be as nonchalant as possible.

She beamed at him. "Thank you." Before he could process it, Bethany had risen to her feet and had enveloped him into a hug. His eyes widened. Expressions of affection were rare for him— the only person who hugged him was his mother. His arms hung limply at his side before embraced her in return.

She pulled away, grinning at him. "You're a great friend," she told him, seeming to be in awe.

"Does this mean you'll start talking to me again?"

"Of course, you big dork!"

"Hey!"

She responded by laughing.

* * *

It was nice to finally be back on speaking terms with Draco. She had to admit, she had been hasty in assuming that he hadn't written Lucius, but she had really thought Lucius would listen to his son.

Bethany spent most of her nights in the library, spending time studying with Ron, Harry, and Hermione, or she would meet up with Draco to look over Ancient Runes together.

"What's this one again?" Draco pointed to a rune shaped liked a triangle with a diagonal strike running through it.

"I think it means 'water'," said Bethany. "Hold on, I'll look it up in the book." She flipped through the pages.

Draco groaned. "Why did I bother signing up for this class?"

"You don't like it?"

"It's not the worst," he said, rubbing at his eyes. "It's more better than Care of Magical Creatures, that's for sure, but it's a lot of work."

"It doesn't come as easily as other subjects do," Bethany admitted. "I enjoy it, though. I think it's one of my favorite classes." Her eyes flickered over to him. What if he dropped the class?

Draco nodded. "I'll stick with it," he told her, seeming to sense her apprehension. "I might drop Care of Magical Creatures, though."

Bethany raised her eyebrows. "Are you sure? What if Hermione beats us both for top of the year this year and next?"

Draco let out another groan before saying, "You're right."

* * *

Bethany left her Divination exam feeling pleased with herself. It had gone surprisingly well; Professor Trelawney had assured her that she had a "most open inner eye" and that she would "continue to prosper in the subject".

Her friends were gathered near the tower, all off them wearing long faces. "What's the matter?" Bethany asked, a sick feeling growing in her stomach.

Hermione's lips lifted up for a brief second. "Don't worry, Bethany. Nothing awful has happened."

"The appeal?"

"Lucius Malfoy stepped in and asked Buckbeak to be spared," said Ron, trying to reassure her. "Whatever you said must have worked."

Bethany shook her head. "I doubt it. He wouldn't listen to a word I had to say. I bet it was Draco who got through to him in the end," Bethany surmised. That, or it was Draco's absence at Easter that had lead to Lucius's change of heart. "So...why are you so upset? It's good news, isn't it?"

"Well... yes and no," said Hermione. "Even though he isn't going to be killed, Lucius is insisting he be taken away from Hagrid. He's going off to live in a reserve in Sweden. As you can understand, Hagrid's devastated."

Bethany felt guilt rising within her. She had been the one to suggest that Buckbeak go to a reserve. "How awful," she said, feeling like a liar. "But...he'll be happy there, won't he? With the other Hippogriffs?"

"He probably will," Ron said, sounding miserable. "I just feel sorry for Hagrid. He probably won't be able to see him again."

Shame gnawed on Bethany. _It is your fault this time_ , a voice inside her head said. _This was your idea. There is nobody to blame yourself— not Lucius Malfoy, not your Father— it's all on you._

Tom Riddle's voice echoed through her mind. _You're just like me._ Was this how it had started for him? Manipulating things behind the scenes?

_But you did it to help!_ She tried to tell herself. _You didn't want Buckbeak to die! It was all for a good cause—_

But Bethany was certain her Father would justify his actions as well. She practically hear his voice saying, _Perhaps I_ was _the Heir of Slytherin, but Acromantulas are dangerous creatures as well— I had to protect the school, you see—_

"Hagrid wants us to be there," Harry said, the letter pinched between his fingertips. Her stomach lurched. "But— if you'd rather not, he understands—"

"No," she said. "I'll go." It was the least she could do, after all she had done.

* * *

Bethany woke in the hospital wing hours later. Her eyelids, heavy with exhaustion, cracked open, only for her to shut them fiercely at the blazing sun peeking in through the windows.

"It's about time you woke up!" Draco's voice sounded far away and close up all at once. Bethany reluctantly opened her eyes again to see Draco sitting at her bedside. Several boxes of chocolate frogs sat on the table beside her, with at least three of them opened and empty.

"What happened?" She mumbled, still foggy.

"You broke your arm and got a concussion."

She frowned before remembering. They had been fleeing Dementors, she remembered, when her foot had caught on a foot and she had fell to the ground. "Oh," she said.

"Mother and Father are coming to visit you today," said Draco. "And I'm sure all your friends will want to see you."

"Are they alright?"

"Of course they are," Draco said, reaching for a box of Chocolate Frogs. "Weasley broke his leg— what on Earth were you doing?"

"We came to say goodbye to Buckbeak," Bethany said, her throat sore. "But then Scabbers escaped and..."

"Speaking of the Hippogriff," Draco said before biting off a leg, "It's gone!"

"What?"

"Father and the Minister went down last night to take him and it had escaped!"

Bethany's eyes widened. "Oh, no!" What if Buckbeak was lost in the Forbidden Forest? She would have to ask Ron, Harry, and Hermione, she was sure they knew—

"And Sirius Black was sighted here, too!" Draco's eyes were wide. "Apparently he was all locked up and they were going to set the Dementors on him, and he disappeared!"

Bethany resisted the urge to smile. "Oh, no!" She repeated.

"Yeah, so who knows where he is now." He munched on a Chocolate Frog. "Do you want one? I bought them for you."

"Huh? Oh, sure."

Draco lightly tossed a box to her lap. "Thanks," she said, trying to open it up, but running into difficulties with her cast. "Um, Draco?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you mind helping me out?"

* * *

True to Draco's word, they were joined by Lucius and Narcissa not half an hour later. "Oh, my poor Bethany!" Narcissa was distraught as she pulled Bethany into a hug. "Why on Earth would you go chasing after Sirius Black? He's a dangerous man!" Her lips trembled.

Bethany, figuring that Dumbledore must have fed them some story, shrugged and said, "I just wanted to make sure he was behind bars. I was so scared that he would attack someone again..."

"Don't do it ever again!" Narcissa said. "Promise me, please!"

"I promise," Bethany said, hoping she would never have to break that promise.

Lucius was hanging back, standing beside Draco. They were speaking quietly.

"Have you taken your Skel-Geo yet?" Narcissa asked.

Bethany shook her head. "No...and I'm not looking forward to it. Harry said it tastes awful," she said, recalling the incident from the previous year in which Lockhart had removed all the bones from Harry's arm after a Quidditch injury.

"You'll want to take it soon," Narcissa said. "It isn't pleasant, but it's best to get it done sooner than later."

Bethany nodded. She was certain it was. "I'll go fetch Madame Pomfrey," said Narcissa, rising from the bed. Bethany didn't miss the look she sent Lucius's direction.

On cue, Lucius stepped forward, shifting his cane uncomfortably. "I would like to apologize," he said. "I understand my actions regarding the Hippogriff were the reason you and Draco decided not to return home for Easter. I—I should have listened to both of your wishes."

Bethany managed a smile. "I forgive you," she said.

His eyes widened. "Really?" He asked, seeming to lose his composure.

"Of course," said Bethany. "I can tell that you really are sorry about it."

A look of relief crossed his features. "Thank you," He said, looking as if a burden had been lifted off his shoulders. Glancing around the hospital wing, he stepped closer to Bethany and spoke very quietly. "I hope you don't mind my saying so, but your father was always one to hold a grudge when he felt he had been wronged. I'm glad you haven't inherited that from him— or his temper."

Even though she usually detested reminders of the man she was related to, she grinned wider than she had in weeks.

* * *

Bethany gazed out the window as the Hogwarts Express pulled away. The castle grew smaller and smaller. As she did every year, she found herself missing it already.

"I went to see Professor McGonagall this morning, just before breakfast. I've decided to drop Muggle Studies."

Bethany whirled around, gaping at Hermione. "Really?" She hadn't imagined Hermione giving up any class— well, besides Divination. Then again, she supposed that balancing life with time turner was quite difficult.

Ron was equally stunned. "But you passed your exam with three hundred and twenty percent!"

"I know, but I can't stand another year like this one. That Time-Turner, it was driving me mad. I've handed it in. Without Muggle Studies and Divination, I'll be able to have a normal schedule again." She smiled, as if her whole mood was brightened by this.

"I still can't believe you didn't tell us," Ron pouted. "I thought we were supposed to be friends."

"Of course we are!" Hermione insisted. "But I promised not to tell anyone!"

Harry, who was sitting the opposite side of Bethany, was also focusing on the disappearing castle. Bethany couldn't help but feel his pain. Only two years ago, she had been in the same position. "Don't worry, Harry," she said softly. "We'll be back soon enough."

"Yeah, and don't worry, mate," Ron said. "You can come stay with me this summer. I'll fix it up with Mum and Dad, and then I'll call you. I know how to use a fellytone now—"

"Telephone," Bethany and Hermione corrected in unison. They both looked at each other and began laughing.

Harry joined in, leaving Ron to scowl at them. "Sorry, Ron," Bethany said.

"S'alright, Beth."

"Is that a thing now?" Hermione asked, dark eyes darting over to Bethany.

"Why not? You don't mind, do you?"

"Not at all," Bethany said. In truth, it was kind of nice, having a nickname.

"Oh! I almost forgot!" Ron exclaimed, changing the subject back to the summer holidays. "It's the Quidditch World Cup this summer! How about it, Harry? Come and stay, and we'll go and see it! Dad can usually get tickets from work."

Harry, who had still retained an air of melancholy, grinned. "Yeah! I bet the Dursley's will be pleased to let me come...especially after what happened with Aunt Marge."

The boys, excited about their summer plans, began playing Exploding Snap, while Bethany and Hermione conversed. When the witch with the tea trolley arrived, they all bought their lunches. Bethany had selected a turkey and cheese sandwich, and she missed the cooking of Hogwarts acutely as she bit into it. She could only hope that Batty and Winnie would prepare a better meal when they had dinner at the Manor.

"Harry," said Hermione suddenly, as Bethany took another bite of her sandwich. "What's that thing outside your window?"

Bethany turned, looking out the window. There was a tiny owl, carrying a letter much too big for itself to carry. "Aww!" Bethany cooed as Harry let it in. "It's the size Khione was when I got her!"

Khione was staring at the small owl, her wide yellow eyes surveying it carefully. Hedwig, meanwhile, was unimpressed.

Harry ripped open the letter, reading it aloud.

"Dear Harry,

I hope this finds you before you reach your aunt and uncle. I don't know whether they're used to owl post..."

It was clear; the letter was from Sirius. Harry read on, rapt excitement evident in his face. Bethany doubted she had ever seen Harry so excited before— not for Quidditch, not for Hogsmeade, not for anything.

There were a few revelations along the way—namely, both Sirius and Buckbeak were safe, and Sirius confessed that it was he who had sent Harry the Firebolt. "Aha!" Hermione had interrupted triumphantly. "I told you he sent it!"

"Yeah, but it wasn't jinxed, was it? Ow!" Ron pulled his fingers away from the little owl, who had bit his fingers.

Harry ignored them, continuing on. Sirius had given him a large amount of money, it seemed, and had also signed Harry's Hogsmeade form. The small owl, he explained, was for Ron, seeing as Scabbers had been a thirty three year old man in disguise.

"Keep him?" Ron stared down at the tiny owl. He glanced over to Crookshanks. "What do you reckon? Is he really an owl?"

Crookshanks sniffed the owl before purring. "That's good enough for me," Ron said happily. "He's mine."

The train pulled up to King's Cross too soon for Bethany's liking. She bid all her friends farewell, hugging them and promising to write as she always did. She couldn't help but feel sad as she watched them run off; Hermione, running up to her parents, Ron joining his brothers and Ginny, and Harry, left to face the Dursleys.

"Bethany!" She turned, seeing Draco waving. He was standing by Lucius and Narcissa.

"How are you?" Narcissa asked, bending down lowly. "You don't still feel sick, do you?"

"I'm alright," Bethany said with a grin.

"Well, are you two ready to go home?" Lucius asked Bethany and Draco.

"Yes! You wouldn't believe the rubbish they served us on the train—" Draco raved.

Bethany shook her head, following Malfoys as they left King's Cross to go home.


	14. Chapter Thirteen: Midsummer Madness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter titles for the fourth year come from Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night.

**Momento Mori**

**Chapter Thirteen: Midsummer Madness**

"What do you mean we are staying at the campgrounds?" Narcissa was scandalized. In fact, she was so shocked by this announcement that her fork had fallen from her hand and clattered against her dinner plate. A silence fell over the table as all eyes focused on the Malfoy patriarch.

Bethany took another bite of her roast. Lucius had just announced that he had reserved a camping spot for the Quidditch World Cup. She glanced across the table to see Draco wearing an expression of disgust, just like his mother.

"The Ministry offered priority to its employees, so I thought I would seize the opportunity," said Lucius, taking a sip of his wine.

"But really, Lucius? Staying in a tent? It seems awfully... lower class."

"We shall discuss it later, Narcissa." Bethany wasn't oblivious to the fact his eyes flickered over to her as he said it. Maybe it was because of Narcissa's lower class comment. It was no secret the orphanage Bethany had grown up in had been far from luxurious. He was the only person in the Malfoy family who had witnessed this first hand. "Besides, I assure you, many other families of our station will be staying there as well. I spoke to Gareth Goyle yesterday, he had reserved a spot, and so has Joseph Parkinson."

Narcissa said nothing, but stabbed at her potatoes with a rare ferocity.

* * *

"So what do you think about staying at the campground?" Bethany asked Draco as she pulled out her History of Magic homework. After dinner each night, the two of them would work together, collaborating as they did their work. Occasionally they would sojourn to Bethany's room, but Draco's bed was bigger than hers, which made it a more comfortable place for them to study.

"I think it's stupid," Draco dipped his quill in ink. "I don't want to stay in a tent."

"I've never stayed in a tent before. I'm kind of interested in it, to be honest."

"I haven't either, but I don't want to. It sounds awful."

"Well, at least you'll know with absolute certainty that it's awful, right?" Bethany said, flipping through the pages of the book. She glanced down at the question on the paper. _7\. Who was the author of_ Magick Moste Evile _and how did he die?_ "Hey, where did you find number 7? I can't find it anywhere."

"The answer is Godelot," Draco said without looking up. "And his son locked in the cellar so he could inherit his father's wand because it was supposedly unbeatable."

"Thanks," said Bethany, writing it down. She then made a face. "God, that's morbid, isn't it?"

"It was a different time."

"Well, yeah, but still...killing your dad for a wand?"

"I'm not saying I would do it, I'm just saying he thought it was unbeatable," Draco said with a shrug. "At any rate, it doesn't matter. There's no such thing as an unbeatable wand. The only way it could be unbeatable is if the wizard was unbeatable."

Bethany looked up from her book. Draco usually didn't wax philosophical, but it was an interesting turn that their conversation had taken. "What do you think you would do— if you owned an unbeatable wand?"

Draco shrugged again. "I don't know. Probably hex Potter." He looked up, grinning when he saw Bethany glowering at him. "I knew that would get to you," he teased her and she stuck out her tongue at him. "Besides, why do you want to know? It's not like it matters. It doesn't exist."

"I know," said Bethany, but she wasn't sure if she believed herself. What if there really was an unbeatable wand? "I was just curious."

"You're always curious."

"I'm a Ravenclaw. I'm supposed to be," Bethany quipped.

"Number 8 is Hereward, by the way. That's Godelot's son."

"Thanks," she said again, writing the answer down.

* * *

The day of the Quidditch World Cup arrived a few weeks later. Bethany and Draco had been roused out of bed by Lucius at four fifteen in the morning. Lucius had all of their belongings packed by the door and had the tent strapped to his back. "Hurry along," he said to the tired teenagers. "We're already behind schedule. The campground opens at five."

It was four forty five now, Bethany noticed from a glance at the clock. "But we have plenty of time!" Draco protested.

"Don't talk back, Draco," Lucius said sternly. "And we have to walk half a mile to make sure that we don't appear suspicious to the Muggles."

Bethany thought the Muggles would be suspicious of them anyway; showing up with no luggage or automobile with only a tent was odd behavior but she decided to keep this to herself. She didn't want to be scolded like Draco.

Bethany and Draco held onto Lucius's arms as he Apparated them to the side of a dirt road. Ahead of them was another wizard family, hauling all their possessions with them. Oh, well. At least they wouldn't be the only weird group of people there.

Draco, as Bethany has expected, detested the length they had to walk. "Why couldn't we have flown?" Draco complained after ten minutes. "It's the Quidditch World Cup, not the Legball World Cup or whatever the Muggles play."

"It's called football," Bethany corrected him.

"Whatever!"

"The Muggles would be in hysterics if they saw you flying around on your broom, Draco," Lucius said briefly. "It is absolutely out of the question. Besides, I thought I told you not to talk back."

"I'm not talking back!"

"You are right now."

Draco let out a noise of frustration. Normally, Bethany would have been amused by Draco getting told off, but after years of no athletics or gym class, her legs were starting grow sore.

As they approached the campground, Draco muttered, "He's being awful today."

"Who?" She whispered back.

"Father! Who do you think?"

"I didn't know. You were being awfully vague." Truthfully, Bethany was shocked he was saying this. Lucius was his idol. It was clear Draco tried to emulate his father in all he did. Bethany has assumed Draco was under the impression Lucius could do no wrong.

"I'm losing my mind," Draco mumbled, shooting daggers at Lucius's back. "This is the dumbest thing he has ever done."

"Be quiet!" Bethany hissed. "He's mad at you already!"

"I don't care! I hate this! It isn't my fault he's being such a—"

"What are you two talking about?" Lucius said loudly. "I hope you aren't complaining."

"Of course not," Bethany said, sweetly as she could manage. "Draco was just telling me he has had a change of heart. He said it's not as bad as he thought it would be." Draco glared at her.

"Don't lie for my son, Bethany," Lucius said.

Bethany felt herself flush as Draco let out a muffled laugh. "Shut it!" she hissed. "I was trying to help you, you jerk!"

The Malfoys and Bethany managed to check into the campground with little to no difficulty. Seeing as Lucius was the only one who was permitted to use magic, he assembled their tent with one quick flick of the wand when he was certain nobody was watching. "Get in," he told them.

Bethany stepped into the small tent but was amazed by what she saw. It looked like the inside of a small house. There was a white table with four chairs, a small kitchen area, and a living room with two couches. "Where's my room?" Draco asked Lucius.

"You and Bethany can decide on that," Lucius pointed to two flaps on the side of the right hand wall. "One for you, and one for Bethany."

"Come on," said Draco, reaching for Bethany's hand as he pulled her along to the flaps.

Bethany didn't resist, but asked, "Aren't we getting a bit old for this?" When he gave her a quizzical look, she looked down at their hands.

"I guess," Draco said, letting go of her hand.

They peeled inside the first flap. There was bed, roughly the size of Bethany's at the Manor, with an end table and mirror. The floor had a dark green carpet and a crystal chandelier hung over top of the bed. The second one was similar, only instead of a mirror, it had a boudoir and the floor was covered by a violet carpet. "You can have this one," Draco said. "You probably packed more stuff than I did."

"Okay," Bethany said. "Uh, thanks."

Draco didn't say anything, merely ducking out of Bethany's room and stepping into his own. Judging by his grumpy mood, he was probably going to take a nap. Bethany didn't blame him. She was tired as well... actually, a nap didn't sound so bad.

Bethany laid down on the bed. The mattress was softer than her bed at the Manor, and blankets smelled fresh and clean. She closed her eyes, stretching out across the bed. It was so comfortable, so nice... like sleeping on a cloud...

"Bethany!"

Her eyes snapped open. Narcissa entered the room, smiling. "Oh, I'm sorry, did I wake you?"

"Yeah," said Bethany, voice thick with sleep. She cleared her throat. "What time is it?"

"It's almost eleven o'clock."

Bethany's eyes widened. Had she really been sleeping that long? "I brought your clothes and a couple of books," Narcissa said, handing Bethany her trunk full of items.

"Thank you," Bethany said.

"Your hairbrush is in there as well, if you wanted to fix your hair," Narcissa said, stepping out of the room.

Fix her hair? Bethany groped through the bag, finally finding the brush. She hurried over to the boudoir. It seemed as though she had tousled her hair up in her sleep. Bethany ran the brush through, grimacing when she met a knot or two in her hair.

When she stepped out of her room, she found Winnie standing at the oven, preparing lunch. Lucius was at the table, paging through the Daily Prophet. Narcissa was moving luggage, waving her wand about. "Where's Draco?" Bethany asked.

"He stepped into the bathroom. He'll be out in a minute, dear," said Narcissa. The briefest of smiles crossed Narcissa's lips before she pulled them back into her regular emotionless state. Bethany wondered if she had imagined it.

True to Narcissa's world, Draco emerged from another flap, shaking his hands. "There's no hand towels," he complained.

"Batty is busy setting things up in our bedroom," Narcissa said, paying no attention to him. "You'll have to wait."

Bethany heard Draco muttering to himself, picking out the words 'ridiculous' and 'absurd'. His negative attitude was starting to get on her nerves. Maybe he needed to get away from his parents for a while. "Hey Draco, do you want to explore the campground?"

Draco seemed indifferent but said, "We can."

"Be back by three o'clock!" Narcissa called out as they reached the opening of the tent. "And stay together!"

Once they left, Bethany quietly said, "I thought you might want a break from them."

Draco nodded. "They've been driving me up the wall this summer."

"I noticed."

They walked side by side down the dirt paths, passing by wizards and Muggles alike. It was easy to tell who the wizards were and who the Muggles were; they passed by a gray haired man wearing a denim jacket and burnt orange skirt.

Thanks to Bethany, the Malfoys managed to blend in. Narcissa had taken her along, and Bethany had vetoed the outfits that would give them away. Draco was wearing a pair of jeans and a black Beatles tee shirt that Bethany had found. Truthfully, she had wanted it for herself, but it was too large for her to wear and Narcissa hadn't wanted to buy more Muggle clothing than necessary. "The Beatles are my favorite band, you know," she said, trying to fill the silence that passed over them. "They were a Muggle group, obviously, and they're music is absolutely fantastic—"

"Hey, look!" Draco pointed. "There's Crabbe!"

And indeed there was. Vincent Crabbe sat upon a bench, licking a red lollipop while his parents struggled to put up the tent behind them. A small boy of about seven ran around their campsite. "Who's that kid?" Bethany asked Draco.

"His little brother." Bethany's eyes widened. She didn't realize Crabbe had a brother. To be honest, she didn't know much about the boy, other than he was Draco's friend and not terribly bright. "Come on, let's say hi."

"Okay," said Bethany reluctantly. Truthfully, the idea of chatting with Crabbe sounded like torture, but if the situations were reversed, she knew she would want to say hi to her friends.

"Hi, Crabbe," Draco greeted his friends, who made loud slurping noises at he licked at the lollipop.

"Hi," Bethany waved to him, trying her best to be friendly.

Crabbe's brow furrowed. "Hi, Draco. What's she doing here?"

"She lives with me, you dolt!"

"Oh, yeah. I forgot," Crabbe nodded his head, which earned him a look of disgust from Draco.

Draco began telling Crabbe what had been doing over the summer, and Crabbe responded with several grunts. Bethany was bored to tears, picking at her nails. It was a habit usually reserved for when she was feeling anxious, but hearing a recap of their whole summer was excessive. Finally, Draco bid his farewell, Bethany waved goodbye, and they left Crabbe behind.

"Can I ask you an honest question?" Bethany asked, turning to Draco as the continued walking. She had to look up to do this; Draco had grown several inches taller over the summer.

"I guess." He paused. "Is there such a thing as a dishonest question?" He grinned when Bethany glared at him.

"Ha ha, you're absolutely hilarious," she said dryly.

Draco reveled in his moment of triumph before saying, "Go on. What were you going to ask?"

She sighed, biting her lip. "Why do you hang out with Crabbe and Goyle so often? It's not like you seem to enjoy their company."

"Because we're friends," Draco replied simply. "I've known them my whole life."

"But you don't like them."

"Sure I do!" Draco seemed offended.

"You don't act like it," Bethany said. "Like back there, you called him a dolt. It seems like only friend you actually seem to like is Pansy, which is more than a little sad."

Bethany saw his eyes light up with a familiar anger. "Hey!"

"Sorry," Bethany apologized, but she wasn't sorry at all.

Draco opened his mouth, as if he were going to tell her off, but closed it, changing his mind. Then he said, "He doesn't mind being called a dolt. I mean, you know him, he really is."

"Yes, but it's not a very nice thing to call someone," Bethany said.

"Oh, so it would be better to call him names behind his back like you and Granger do to Weasley and Potter?" Draco arched an eyebrow. "Don't think I haven't heard you two whispering in Ancient Runes about what idiots you think they are."

"That's only when they are acting like idiots!" Bethany defended herself, feeling her face grow warm.

"There you go. I only call them dolts when they are being dolts."

Bethany sighed. "But why would you call him that while his parents were there? I doubt they like you calling their son names."

"They don't care. They call him worse things," Draco said, kicking a small stone across the ground.

Bethany's jaw dropped. "That's horrible! Why would they do that?" Crabbe might not be the sharpest knife in the drawer, but she could hardly imagine parents treating their child like that. That sounded... well, _Dursleyish_.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Oh, calm down. It's not that bad."

Bethany narrowed her eyes. "Not that bad?" Of course, Draco had no idea what it was like to grow up where people didn't value you. Dana has always treated Bethany kindly, but she knew too well what it was like to grow up with people who didn't respect her.

"You're overreacting."

"Draco, my father is the Dark Lord and he never insulted me," Bethany snapped. His eyes widened. It was rare that Bethany spoke of her parentage. "Even when I was actively working against him. What do you think that says about Crabbe's parents?"

Draco stared at her with a mixture of shock and awe. "Sometimes I forget," he said, speaking only so she could hear him. "I think you do, too."

"I want to forget," she said savagely. "I wish I wasn't." She didn't have to explain what she meant; he understood her.

"Why? He is one of the most powerful wizards. I wouldn't mind being related to him."

"And that's where you and I differ," Bethany said. "I hate him."

"You don't hate me," Draco pointed out.

"You're different."

"I believe in the same things. So why do you hate him, but not me?" Draco countered.

Bethany stopped walking. "You aren't evil," she stated. "Can we stop talking about this? Please?"

"I guess," said Draco. "But you know he did like having you around, right?" When Bethany didn't respond, he continued. "Mother said he was always happy when he came back from missions, and even though you were at the Manor a lot, you lived with him. Moth—"

"Draco, shut up!" She exclaimed. Her hands had balled up into her fists, her nails digging into her palms. "I don't care!"

Bethany refuses to look at him, staring down at the dust that had appeared on the toes of her shoes. Maybe she had been harsh, but she couldn't listen to Draco try and humanize _him._ She didn't care about him. At all. She knew he didn't care about her— he was willing to endanger her to succeed in world domination; it was hardly the act of a loving parent.

"Bethany! Hey!" Bethany looked up, glancing around until she saw Fred and George Weasley standing in front of a yellow tent.

Bethany smiled and waved. "I'm going to head over and say hi," Bethany told Draco.

"Fine. See you later." Draco shoved his hands in his pockets and began stalking off.

"Draco!" She chased after him, grabbing his arm. "Your mum told us to stay together!"

"Do you see Mother around here? She won't know unless you tell her. I'm not going to hang around a bunch of blood traitors," he sneered. "Besides, you'd rather hang out with them with me."

Bethany opened her mouth to protest, but no words came out. Truthfully, if he was going to act like this, she would rather be with her friends. "Will you let go of me?" Draco looked pointedly at her hand, which was still latched onto his arm.

Bethany did so, staring at him with disappointment. "I'll be back here around two thirty," he said. "I'm going to find Goyle."

"Okay. Have fun," Bethany said flatly. She turned around, heading over to the Weasley tent.

"What was that all about?" George asked her, eyes on Draco as he weaved through the crowd and disappeared.

"He's been an arse all day," Bethany crossed her arms over chest. The twins let out laughs. "Well, he has! I'm sick of it!"

"We don't doubt that," Fred grinned. "It's just awfully colorful language for you."

Bethany wanted to protest, but stopped herself. It would be too much like a small child insisting that they were all grown up. While Bethany knew she was nowhere close to being an adult, she didn't need Fred thinking she was too immature. "I'm glad to be here," she said instead. "I've missed you two."

"Aw, we're blushing!" Fred said, and George let out a laugh. "I suspect you want to find our dear brother, Harry, and Hermione?"

"Um, yeah," said Bethany, stammering when she made eye contact with him. Dammit, why did he always make her so nervous? It was as if she became an entirely different person around him.

"Well, Ron and Harry got sent on a mission to find water by Dad, but Hermione's in the girl's tent with Ginny," George offered helpfully. "We can take you inside."

"That would be great, thanks," she said. "Wait, why are they looking for water? Can't your dad just cast Aguamenti?"

"You know Dad. He loves Muggle stuff. He'd go himself, but he's busy doing other stuff," Fred elaborated. "Careful, if you mention anything Muggle to him, he start interrogating you."

Bethany grinned, feeling butterflies fluttering in her stomach. "I'll keep that in mind."

The twins lead her inside a second tent, leading them to the room the girls were sharing. "What are you doing?" Bethany heard Ginny shriek as Fred stuck his head inside. "Get out!"

"Relax, Gin, I've brought a guest!" He looked out and nodded to Bethany, motioning her to peek in.

"Uh, hi?" Bethany poked her head inside.

Hermione, who had been sitting on one of the two beds, jumped up. "Oh my goodness!" She raced over, practically dragging Bethany inside as she hugged her. "I've missed you so much!"

"I've missed you, too!" Bethany laughed, taken aback by Hermione's enthusiasm. "Hi, Ginny," Bethany smiled at the other girl. She hadn't spoken much to the other girl last year, and hoped the other girl had forgiven her as Ron claimed she had. Bethany hadn't forgotten about how Ginny had thought she was stuck up, but she was determined to change that.

"Hi, Bethany." Ginny returned the smile, but sounded uncertain.

"We'll leave you girls alone to do whatever it is you do," George said. "Bye."

"Bye, boys," Hermione said. Bethany waved back as Ginny returned to her bed.

"So," Bethany said. "What did I manage to interrupt?" Based on Ginny's reaction by Fred's entrance, they had been discussing something that they wanted very few to know about.

Ginny glanced to Hermione uncertainly. "It's alright," Hermione said gently. "I trust Bethany. She wouldn't tell." Before Bethany could ask, Hermione said, "Ginny was just about tell me who she had a crush on."

Bethany's eyes widened. "Oh!" A smile crossed her features. She'd never been entrusted with a secret like this— something that was so normal yet important. "I promise, I won't say a word to anyone," Bethany said, trying restrain her excitement.

Ginny nodded, seeming decide Bethany could be trusted. "It'sHarry," She said as one sentence.

Hermione's mouth fell open as Bethany grinned. It wasn't much of a surprise— after all, her dad had told her as much, but she hadn't realized that Ginny still liked Harry. It must be serious. "Really?" Hermione said.

"Yeah," Ginny's face had turned red. "I know it's stupid, and I know he'd never notice me in a million years—"

"Don't say that," Bethany interjected. "I think you two would make a really cute couple." Truthfully, Bethany didn't know Ginny well enough to know how suited she was to Harry, but Bethany figured there would be nothing wrong in them giving it a try.

Ginny flushed again. "Bethany's right. You shouldn't be so hard on yourself," Hermione said. "You're a wonderful girl. Harry would be lucky to be with someone like you."

"But he doesn't know me! Well, I mean he knows me because of Ron, but I don't ever talk to him!l I don't think he even notices me most of the time!" Ginny lamented. "And I can't even bring myself to talk to him! I'm so shy!"

"Don't worry. That's how I am too," Bethany said, but when she saw Ginny's eyes widen, she frantically said, "Not with Harry! No, no, with the guy I like!"

"You like somebody?" Hermione's eyes widened. "Who?"

With two pairs of eyes on her eagerly waiting for her answer, it was Bethany's turn to blush. "Um," she began, nervously biting down on her lip, "lean in really close, I can't say it loudly." The both girls leaned in close to her when she quietly said, "Fred."

Ginny's eyes widened and Hermione seemed to be smiling in relief. "Really? My brother?"

"Yeah," said Bethany. "He's really funny and he's nice to me, and I think he's really cute."

"It's just weird to me," Ginny said. "Not that you're weird!" She clarified quickly. "Just... the idea of anyone wanting to date any of my brothers. And I don't know... you just seem really serious most of the time, you know? When you aren't with Ron or Harry, that is."

"That's true," said Hermione. "But it sort of makes sense."

"What do you mean?" Ginny asked, crossing her legs.

"Well, since Bethany tends to generally be a more serious person, she seeks out friends who can help lighten her mood and help her see things in a different light," Hermione explained. "It makes a lot of sense that she would want a romantic partner who encourages her to do the same."

"Are you speaking from personal experience?" Bethany teased her.

Hermione's eyes widened. "Is it that obvious?"

"If you are talking about who I think you're talking about, it is to me," Bethany said. "However, I don't think it's obvious to him." Hermione let out a sigh of relief.

"Wait, who are you two talking about?" Ginny looked back and forth between the two of them.

"Ron," Hermione flopped back onto her bed.

Ginny gaped again. "Both of you like my brothers? I thought you two were supposed to be smart!" When Hermione sat up in the bed, Ginny quickly said, "I'm kidding!"

"It's silly, isn't it?" Hermione said.

"It's not silly at all," Bethany tried to soothe her. "For what it's worth, I think he likes you, too."

Hermione sat up. "Really?"

"Yeah. I don't know if he realizes it yet or not, but he really admires you."

"How do you know?"

"How could I not?" Bethany retorted. "You two were flirting with each other on that trip to Hogsmeade when Harry wasn't there! Remember when he tried to nickname you?"

"He did the same for you," Hermione pointed out, sounding miserable. "And he actually started calling you by yours."

"A lot of people call me Beth, Hermione. It isn't that big of a deal."

"Besides, Ron talks about you all the time at home, Hermione," Ginny added. "I really think he likes you."

"Why can't he just tell me that? So I could know for sure?"

"Have you ever met Ron?" Ginny asked. "He's so stubborn."

Hermione sighed. "You're right."

A brief silence passed over them. "So...since your both Harry's friends and you know him really well...how do you think could get him to notice me?"

"Maybe you could try and talk to him about Quidditch?" Bethany suggested. "You like Quidditch, don't you?" A second later she buried her face in her hands. "That was a dumb question, of course you like Quidditch, we're at the World Cup."

Ginny laughed loudly. "That is a good idea," said Hermione, nodding. "Harry does like Quidditch. I think that you could confidently talk to him about it, that's a good start."

"I just don't think I have the confidence," Ginny sighed. "I try to talk to him, but then it's like my voice doesn't work."

"I know what that's like," Bethany rested her face on her propped hand.

Hermione bit her lip. "I know it's a little risky but...maybe you could date some other guy? Just to see what it's like. And if Harry sees what another guy sees in you, he might be more inclined."

"I just don't know who would want to go out with me," Ginny said.

"You'll find somebody," Hermione urged her. "I promise. You're a lovely girl, inside and out."

Ginny smiled. "Thanks, you guys. I feel a lot better now."

"I do too, honestly," Bethany said. "I've been keeping that secret for two years. It's nice to share it with others."

"I think it was good for us," Hermione agreed, and Bethany felt content.

* * *

The boys returned back soon enough, exchanging their hellos with Bethany. "That chocolate bar was delicious, by the way, thanks Beth," Harry said to her.

Bethany glanced over to Hermione, as if to say 'see?' "I'm glad you liked it, Harry," she said, giving him a hug. Somehow, exchanging chocolate for birthdays had become a tradition between the two of them.

They chatted for awhile, exchanging and laughing at stories that hadn't made it into letters. They stayed like this for a while until Bethany glanced over to the clock. It was, much to her horror, 2:55. "Oh, shit!" Bethany jumped to her feet.

"Bethany!" Hermione gasped, shocked, while Ron roared with laughter.

"I have to go, I'm sorry!" Merlin, if her and Draco were late, Narcissa was going to kill them. "I'll see you later!"

There was a varying chorus of goodbyes from the Weasleys, and Bethany raced frantically through the Weasleys tent. Merlin, what if Draco had left without her? What if he had forgotten and she had to find him?

But Draco was standing a few feet away from the Weasley tent, scowling. "You're late."

"Yes, yes, I know, I'm sorry!" Without saying another word, they began sprinting in the direction of the Malfoy tent, bumping past several people. Bethany's heart was pounding out of exertion and fear.

"Why didn't you just knock on the tent door? I'm sure they wouldn't have minded!" Bethany asked Draco as the tent neared in sight.

"I wasn't about to step foot into their filthy hovel," Draco sneered. "What if I'd caught diseases from them?"

Bethany opened her mouth to tell Draco to do something she was certain would have sent Narcissa into hysterics if she had heard her using such "unladylike language", but Lucius stepped out the tent. "Oh, there you are. Good. Your mother was getting worried," Lucius said to Draco.

"We're sorry," said Bethany. "We lost track of time, it won't happen again." It wasn't a lie; they had. Well, she had.

"Hm." Lucius didn't seem displeased at all. "I told her not to worry. I'm glad you two are getting along better than you were last year."

Bethany blinked twice rapidly. If anything, she thought her and Draco had been more agreeable _last_ year. Yes, their disagreements then had been more volatile, but they nowhere near as frequent. This summer, Bethany has found herself weighing the pros and cons of shoving Draco down a flight of stairs when he became especially disagreeable.

"You two better hurry inside," Lucius said, glancing at the flap of the tent. "Before your mother worries herself to death."

Bethany felt somewhat guilty. As overbearing as Narcissa could sometimes be, she knew it came from a place of love— and fear. So Draco and Bethany didn't have to be told twice as they jumped back inside the tent.

"There you are!" Narcissa rose from her chair, hugging them both with one arm. Narcissa was still taller than Bethany, but Draco had surpassed his mother in height. "I was so worried."

"We're sorry, Mother. Bethany lost track of time."

Bethany shot him a dirty look. Even though it _was_ true, it didn't mean he had to tell her that!

"That's alright," Narcissa said, releasing them from her grasp. She returned to her seat. "Did you two have fun?"

"Yes," they said in unison.

Narcissa smiled. "Good. I am so happy that you two are friends."

Bethany and Draco exchanged a glance. It was bizarre, that both his parents would tell them such similar things in such a short amount of time. Perhaps they had been talking about them before they had arrived... yes, that sort of made sense... "Why do you say that, Mother?" asked Draco.

"No reason, dear," Narcissa said brightly. "I know it's a bit late, but would you two care for some tea?"

Draco declined, stalking off to his room. Bethany, however, sat beside Narcissa. As she stirred in her sugar, Narcissa said, "Try and ignore Draco, dear. I know he is being awfully surly this summer, but that's often how boys are at this age. Lucius was the same way."

Bethany raised her eyebrows. "Really?" Lucius was usually so composed, it was hard to imagine him snapping at everybody and everything. Then again, Draco was every bit Lucius's son. Even though a lot of his behavior was the result of mimicry, it wasn't surprising it was inherited as well.

"Yes, really." Narcissa sipped her tea. "It was a nightmare. I made up excuses to spend more time with my sisters just to stay clear of him. He grew out of it though, just as Draco will."

Bethany began stirring her tea. Narcissa rarely spoke of her years at Hogwarts. "How did you meet Lucius?"

"I can't remember, to be honest," Narcissa said. "All the pureblooded families met up for parties and various social gatherings. Oftentimes, all the children were pushed off into a few rooms with a house elf supervising them." Her eyes were shining, as if she was remembering something that she sorely missed. "I know I must have met Lucius there, but we were so young. I can't remember a life without him.

"We were always good friends, even before we came to Hogwarts. I always missed him during the school years, just as I missed my sisters." Narcissa stopped suddenly, as if she had said something she wasn't supposed to. She gulped before continuing. "I always sort of had a crush on him, though. He was one of the most handsome boys at Hogwarts. I was so jealous when he started dating Katherine Bulstrode."

Millicent Bullstrode's face appeared in Bethany's mind. She must have been making a face because Narcissa let out a laugh. "I know what you are thinking. Poor Millicent didn't take after her aunt in the looks department. No, Katherine married Barnabus Flint— She's Marcus's mother."

"Oh!" Bethany exclaimed. "I know Marcus. Not very well, of course, but I know who he is." She paused. She thought back to her conversation that afternoon, with Ginny and Hermione. Somehow, Bethany thought that dating someone else to attract the attentions of someone was perhaps not the best move. It felt dishonest, as if you were using them as a pawn in your game. But still... if she dated somebody else, would Fred finally see her the way she saw him? "Did you ever date someone else? Before Lucius?"

Narcissa shook her head. "I did not. I was asked a few times, but never by anyone I thought was worth seeing." Bethany wondered if she was simply referring to boys she wasn't attracted to or if she was talking about Muggleborns and halfbloods. Maybe it was both. Either way, Bethany didn't ask. The answer probably wasn't one she wanted to hear. "Eventually, we started dating at the end of my fifth year, which was probably the worst time for us to do such a thing," Narcissa let out a laugh, "Between my OWLs and his NEWTs, we hardly any time to spend together. And then he graduated, so we decided to take a break, and if promised each other that if we still wanted to be together, we would get back together after I was finished with school."

Bethany held her breath. As silly as it was, since she knew how the story would end, she was intrigued nonetheless. "I think it was the worst two years of my life," Narcissa said, her eyes distant as she relived her past. "I missed him so much... It didn't help that it felt strange to send letters, seeing as we had broken up. But eventually, after I graduated, we agreed to meet up for lunch. I was so worried— I was convinced he had met somebody else and was going to break the news gently to me. Imagine my surprise when he proposed!"

Bethany grinned. "Oh my goodness, that's so cute!" The idea of Lucius being so spontaneous was a foreign one, but it made the whole story all the more romantic.

"I think so," Narcissa said, and they giggled into their teacups.

Bethany drained her cup. "Thank you for telling me that, Narcissa. I know... I know you and Lucius aren't my parents, but...you're my family," she confessed staring down at her knees.

Narcissa, touched, stood up and hugged Bethany fiercely. "I understand," she said softly. "I would never want to replace Delilah, but Lucius and I have always seen you like the daughter we never had." She pulled away and Bethany saw tears shining in her blue eyes. "We love you very much."

"I love you, too," Bethany blinked back tears.

"And...I want to thank you. For being friends with Draco." Narcissa glanced down at her tea. "He enjoys spending time with you, whether he says it or not. And I think you have been a good influence on him."

"Thank you," said Bethany, not sure if that should be considered a compliment or not. Bethany wasn't certain if her definition of a good influence and Narcissa's were the same.

"Why don't you go and rest up, dear?" Narcissa gave her a gentle smile. "The game will be a long one, the professional ones always do."

"I think I better do that." With an exchange of smiles and another hug, Bethany wandered off to her bedroom.

 


	15. Chapter Fourteen: A Certain Kind Of Wit

**Momento Mori**

**Chapter Fourteen: A Certain Kind of Wit**

"The match starts soon!" Bethany said, fervently looking at the nearby clock. Now that it was dusk, she had changed into her robes at Narcissa's suggestion. The Muggles weren't going to be able to tell or care what they were wearing in the dark. Draco was wearing his robes as well, sprawled out lazily across the couch as Bethany paced back and forth.

"Mother and Father are probably trying to take as long as they possibly can to get ready," Draco said boredly. "They love being fashionably late."

" _Late_?" Her voice rose an octave. If there was one thing Bethany detested, it was being late.

"Relax," Draco rolled his eyes. "We're not actually going to _be_ late, we're just going to be the last ones there." He sat up. "Besides, it will be better this way. We won't have to watch all the commercials."

Bethany nodded, but his words didn't soothe her anxiety.

A few minutes later, Lucius and Narcissa emerged from their room. They reminded Bethany of a celebrity couple dressed for a red carpet event instead of two people going to see a Quidditch game. In fact, Bethany felt her and Draco looked rather underdressed. If it weren't for her fears they would be late, she would have insisted on changing. "Let's go," Lucius said, as if making it official.

They weren't far away for the field where the match was taking place, but Bethany was growing tied as they climbed step after step after step to get all the way to the Minister's box. It was like being back at Hogwarts in the worst possible way. Finally, the Minster's box was in sight, and Bethany heard Cornelius Fudge announcing their arrival.

"Ah, Fudge," Lucius wore his smug grin and shook Fudge's hand. "How are you? I don't believe you have ever met my wife, Narcissa."

"It's pleasure to meet you," Narcissa simpered, shaking the Minister's hand.

"It's nice to meet you too. And who are these young ones? This one must be your son, Lucius! By George, he looks just like you!" Fudge said, smiling at Draco.

"This is Draco," Lucius rested a hand on his shoulder, and the rested the other on Bethany's. "And this is Bethany. She is our ward, but she is part of our family, nonetheless."

"Oh, yes, that's right! You told me all about her! It's a wonderful thing you are doing, Lucius— just like your generous contribution to St. Mungo's!"

"It was nothing," Lucius said, but Bethany could tell just by his smile that he had donated quite a bit. But then again, the Malfoys thought nothing of their wealth. "Knowing that I am helping save lives is worth more than all the Galleons in Gringott's."

"Well said, Lucius!" Cornelius Fudge praised him. "Allow me to introduce you to Mr. Oblansk— Obalonsk— Mr.— well, he's the Bulgarian Minister of Magic, and he can't understand a word I'm saying anyway, so never mind. And let's see who else— you know Arthur Weasley, I daresay?"

Bethany, who had just now spotted her friends, waved enthusiastically to them. Mr. Weasley and Lucius, however, seemed to be in the middle of a mini stand down. Bethany remembered their fight in Flourish and Blott's all too well. She certainly hoped this time that neither man left the exchange with a black eye.

"Good Lord, Arthur," Lucius said quietly. "What did you have to sell to get seats in the Top Box? Surely your house wouldn't have fetched this much? I hope your son Robert wasn't selling Bethany's gifts, I imagine that is the only way your family could have acquired anything of value—"

Bethany glared at him. How dare he try and drag her and Ron into this? She glanced down at their feet, trying to figure out if there was a way she could "accidentally" stomp on his foot and not get into trouble...

"My son _Ronald_ appreciates all of the gifts he is given by Bethany," Mr. Weasley said, voice tense. "And I don't believe our finance history is any of your business!"

Lucius gave Mr. Weasley a menacing smile before saying. "Come along, children. Time to head to our seats."

Bethany and Draco exchanges an annoyed look. They were still underage, but they _weren't_ children. Still, they said nothing and moved to their seats. Bethany ended sitting between Narcissa and Draco. She turned around, and waved again to her friends. Hermione met her gaze and smiled, but Harry and the Weasleys eyes were glued to the inside of their Omniculars. Bethany bit back a smile. It was typical, honestly.

"Ladies and gentlemen. . . welcome! Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!" A booming voice from behind them announced. The entire stadium erupted into cheers. The scoreboard, which had been advertising Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Bean, disappeared and showed a scoreboard; BULGARIA: 0, IRELAND: 0.

Bethany leaned over to Draco and whispered, "Which team are we rooting for?" England wasn't an option, obviously, and she was woefully oblivious to the world of professional Quidditch.

" _I'm_ supporting Ireland," said Draco. He looked over to her with great amusement. "You might want to support Bulgaria, though."

Bethany frowned. What did he mean? Bethany shook her head. If Ireland was good enough for Draco, she supposed she would cheer for them as well. He knew far more about Quidditch than she did.

"And now, without further ado, allow me to introduce...the Bulgarian National Team Mascots!"

Bethany squinted. She could see a thing from up here... she peered into Omniculars and saw several beautiful women dancing on the field. They all seemed identical, with golden hair and dewy skin. They looked like supermodels. They made Bethany feel grossly inadequate.

"Veelas," Narcissa said from beside her. Bethany pulled her Omniculars away to glance at the woman. Narcissa's lips were pulled back in disgust. "They try and seduce human men." As if to prove her point, she nodded to her son and husband.

Bethany turned to see Lucius watching the field through his Omniculars, wearing a dazed expression. Draco mirrored him, and was even _drooling_. He was leaning so far forward, he was about to fall from his seat. For some reason, this annoyed Bethany greatly. She frowned and kicked at his ankle. "Ow! What'd you do that for!" Draco jerked the Omniculars away from his eyes to glare at her.

"You're welcome," Bethany said, feeling satisfied. "You looked like an idiot."

He sneered. "What, are you jealous or something?"

"As if!" Bethany protested, feeling her face grow warm. "I was trying to be helpful! I won't bother next time, since you are so unappreciative!"

"I don't need your help! I was happy where I was!"

"Oh, so you wanted to fall onto the ground? My mistake, I'll let you make a fool of yourself next time."

"Children, stop fighting!" Narcissa interjected wearily.

"I'm not a child, Mother!"

"Oh, for heaven's sake— Lucius!" When that didn't work, Narcissa leaned over and swatted the Omniculars from her husband's hands.

"Wha—?"

"Will you stop staring at these women and tell these two to quit bickering?"

Lucius blinked. Narcissa groaned, utterly exasperated. "Oh for the love of Merlin..." she sighed.

The Irish mascots were introduced a short while later. Leprechauns showered the stadium with gold. Bethany heard Draco lean over to his father and say "I bet the Weasleys are happy, they'll finally be able to eat!" which earned a laugh from Lucius. Bethany merely clenched her jaw, staring forward. _Arse_ , she thought bitterly, among a string of other swear words.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, kindly welcome— the Bulgarian National Quidditch Team!"

The scarlet side of the stadium cheered loudly. The announced all the players, who entered the stadium on top of broomsticks, sweeping across the sky. "Aaaand Krum!" The announcer concluded.

"Look, Bethany, it's your boyfriend!" Draco teased.

Bethany looked through her Omniculars. There, perched in the air, was a scowling (albeit good looking) Quidditch player. Why would—

Suddenly, Bethany remembered. That day in the Italian Quidditch Shop— she glared at Draco, more annoyed than ever to see his amusement.

"Bethany has a boyfriend?" Lucius pulled his eyes away from the Omniculars. He began turning his head, as if he were going to look up at the Weasleys.

"No!" Bethany protested, feeling very embarrassed. "Draco's just teasing me."

"Bethany loooooves Viktor," he sang.

"Be quiet!" Bethany hissed. Oh, God, what if Fred overheard him? The Weasleys weren't that far away— Bethany turned her head, looking up—

"Who're you looking at?" Draco asked, trying to follow her gaze.

"Noth— my friends," she amended. He seemed to think little of her answer, turning back as the Irish team was announced.

The game that followed was full of action. It was by far the most intense game of Quidditch Bethany had ever watched in her life. Draco was more enthusiastic than Bethany had ever seen him; at several points, he leapt to his feet to cheer or shout advice to the players. And he wasn't alone. The whole stadium was alive in a frenzy.

The game ended with an Irish victory, even though Krum had caught the Snitch. Bethany was pleased by their win. "Too bad your boyfriend didn't win the game for his team," Draco teased her again as they trailed behind Lucius and Narcissa.

"Will you stop calling him that?" Bethany groaned. "Aside from the fact he's not my type, he's much too old for me."

"He's only seventeen," Draco said. "He's still in school." Bethany looked at him with surprise. "Yeah, that's what I thought too. He goes to Durmstrang. Father wanted to send me there," Draco told her. "Mother didn't want me going so far away."

Bethany frowned. "I remember that. Your dad said so, in Diagon Alley, when I first met you. Why would he want to send you to another school?"

"Durmstrang actually teaches their students Dark magic," Draco said casually. Bethany stares at him in shock. "They don't sugar coat it like they do at Hogwarts."

"I don't think Hogwarts sugar coats anything," Bethany said, feeling sick. Merlin, imagine all the gruesome things her father could have done in dark magic was part of his curriculum! How could it even be legal to teach such a thing?

Draco didn't say anything. They were approaching the tent. The cool night air had made Bethany tired, as well as physical exertion. She would sleep well tonight.

Draco and Bethany mumbled their goodnight to each other before Narcissa wrapped them each into a hug. This was one of the things Bethany missed most at Hogwarts; she had never received any sort of good night or physical affection from Dana.

Lucius was more subdued, but he wished her a goodnight as well. Bethany left for her bedroom, ready to finally rest. "You, my dear, are beautiful than any Veela—" Bethany heard Lucius say to his wife before she stepped into her room.

Bethany quickly changed into a nightgown. When she had moved into Malfoy Manor, Narcissa had insisted that they were the best pajamas at that she needed to wear them to bed every night. At first, Bethany had hated them, but now she couldn't imagine life without wearing them. They were comfortable and elegant; a rare combination in clothing, let alone sleep apparel.

Bethany fell onto the bed, burying herself under the covers. She could still hear witches and wizards celebrating the Irish victory outside, but she was lulled to sleep by the sound of crickets chirping in the grass.

Her slumber, however, was brief. A short while later, she awoke to feeling someone shaking her shoulders. "Bethany!"

Her eyes snapped open to see Draco, hovering over her bed. He was still dressed in his robes. "What?" She mumbled, her voice thick from sleep.

"Get up. Quickly," he said lowly.

She blinked slowly. As jarring as this was, she wanted nothing more than to return to sleeping. "What's going on?"

"I'll explain once we get to the woods."

"The woods?" It was as if a cold bucket of water had been dumped over her. "Draco, I need to get dressed!"

"There's no time!" He grabbed her hand, and this time Bethany didn't bothering telling him they were too old this time. He pulled her out of the room. The tent was empty, save for them. They slipped on their shoes hastily and raced for the trees, where they hid, watching the campground.

"Draco, what's happening?" Bethany whispered. So far, nothing was wrong. There were a few campfires still burning, and Bethany could even hear a few avid Quidditch fans continuing to celebrate the victory off in the distance, but nowhere near as loudly as before.

"Your Dad's followers have planned a treat for the Muggles," Draco said quietly. It was too dark to make out his features, but she was sure he was smirking.

Bethany felt her heart plummet to her stomach. "What?" The Death Eaters. Lucius has been one, once— oh Merlin, what were they going to do? The thought made her sick. Selfishly, she wondered what would happen to her if Lucius and Narcissa were caught and arrested. "We have to stop them!"

"No," said Draco, squeezing her hand tighter, as if that would be enough stop her from running to defend the Muggles. "They're not going to realize who you are if they just see you. Most of them haven't seen you since you were a baby." He looked down at her. "Besides, do you even have your wand?"

Bethany shook her head. In their haste, she had not grabbed it. It was likely sitting on her end table, where she had sat it earlier.

Bethany thought she saw a bright flame of fire. She wrapped her arms around her chest. She was grateful for how dark it was; she didn't need Draco seeing her in just her night gown.

She looked up at him and gulped. He was staring at the scene that was about to unfold with the same rapt attention he had watched the Quidditch game. She wondered if he was trying to spot which of the masked figures was Lucius. She knew she was— suddenly, his insistence on staying at the campground made more sense.

A scream cut through the air, and the sound of laughs accompanied it. It was sick, this whole thing was disgusting, absolutely appalling...

"Is he out there?" She had to know. She had to have a verbal confirmation.

"What do you think?"

Her eyes flickered over to him, feeling more than disappointed. "Did you know about this?"

He shook his head. "Not until Mother woke me up. She told me to get you and come here."

Bethany shuddered, unsure if it was because the cool breeze that blew through the trees or because of it was because of the truly disturbing thing taking place just now. It was times like this Bethany wished she had been a Gryffindor; maybe she could have summoned enough courage to break out of Draco's grasp and grab her wand to defend the poor Muggles. But Bethany was a coward and stood by Draco, watching with a feeling of dread.

"Are you alright?" Draco asked. Bethany shook her head. How could she be alright?

A loud snapping noise caused Bethany to jump. "What was that?" She whispered to Draco, who clapped a hand over mouth. Her back was pressing against his chest— she could feel his heart pounding— perhaps he wasn't as calm and collected as he was pretending he was.

There was rustling, the sound of voices. Then one of the figures fell to the ground, yelling out. "What happened?" A female voice asked. Wait, was that—? "Oh, this stupid— _Lumos_."

A wand illuminated, revealing Ron sprawled our on the ground, surrounded by dirt and leaves. "Tripped over a tree root," he groaned, clearly in pain.

"Well, with feet that large, hard not to," Draco said into her ear, but it was loud enough for her friends to hear him. His hand fell back to his side.

Ron caught sight of Draco. "Fuck off, Malfoy." Bethany was surprised Hermione didn't reprimand him, but she couldn't help but admire him for speaking the words she had been thinking.

"Language, Weasley," Draco sounded amused as he leaned against the tree they had been hiding behind seconds ago. "Hadn't you better be hurrying along, now? You wouldn't like her spotted, would you?"

"Don't pay any attention to him," Bethany scowled, stepping closer to her friends, who were staring wide eyed at her. "Are you alright, Ron?"

Ron stood up on his feet, brushing dirt off. "Yeah, I'm okay. What the hell is he talking about?"

"They're attacking the Muggles," Bethany said quietly, feeling disgusted.

"But Hermione's a witch!" Harry glared at Draco. His hands were clenched into fits.

Draco shrugged nonchalantly. "Have it your own way, Potter. If you think they can't spot a Mudblood, stay where you are."

"Shut up!" Bethany snapped as Ron and Harry voiced their own disapproval. She'd had enough. "Just shut up! You're not helping!"

"I'm just trying to make sure your Mudblood friend there doesn't end up showing everyone her knickers to the whole campground!" Draco protested. "You ought to be thanking me!"

"Stop calling her that!" Her voice was shrill, and an anger she was unaccustomed to overtook her entire body.

"Quiet!" He interjected with a hiss. "They'll hear you!"

"Bethany, aren't you cold?" Harry said suddenly, looking at her sleeveless night gown and her arms crossed over her chest.

She nodded. "Yeah. I didn't have enough time to grab something..."

"Here—" Harry slipped off his own jacket and handed it to her. "Put it on."

Bethany stared at the jacket. She wanted to protest— after all, it wasn't as though she would die of cold without, and he was bound to feel chilly as well— but then Draco sneered, "She doesn't need you second hand garbage, Potter!"

"She's cold!" Harry pushed the jacket into Bethany's hands. "Do you want her to freeze out here?"

Bethany slipped the jacket on, if for nothing else than to spite Draco. As she zipped it, she said, "Thank you, Harry. That's very kind of you. I'll be sure to return it." She glanced at Ron and Hermione, who were huddled beside one another, watching the fray unfold. "You should run along," she said. "I'll be fine here."

"No way!" Ron insisted. "You're coming with us!"

Bethany shook her head, taking a step back towards Draco, even though she could barely stand him at the moment. "They won't hurt me. Please, go." She didn't know if could bear it if something horrible happened to them.

Harry nodded, and took off, Hermione trailing behind him. Ron glanced back, to see if he could change her mind, before running off to join them.

She turned back to face Draco, who was smirking at them. "They're awfully scared, aren't they?"

"You're an arse," Bethany said, wrapping Harry's jacket closer to herself.

"Don't catch Mother hearing you say that."

"I don't care what your mother would say right now," Bethany spat out. "You're being terrible."

"I helped your friends!" Draco insisted. "I told them to clear out of here! You know full well that worse things could've happened to Granger if they stayed around."

Bethany shuddered. She didn't dare think of what they would do. "How do we know nothing will happen to us?"

"They can tell who is a pure blood and who isn't," Draco said, believing it one hundred percent. "Besides, they'll know who I am. I look just like my father," he said, clearly proud of it.

Bethany closed her eyes as she heard screams come from the campground. A loud explosion soon followed, shaking the ground. She hated this. She wished she were at home, tucked away in her bed. All this... all to appease her father, wherever he was.

It seemed to go on forever.

"Look," Draco pointed up into the dark sky. Bethany glanced up, hoping he had seen a shooting star, but the sight that greeted her was nowhere near as beautiful. A green skull decorated the sky, it's mouth opening as a snake slithered out.

"What is that?"

"Don't you know?" Before Bethany could retort back, Draco said, "That's the Dark Mark. Your father branded all his followers with it. It's on their left arms."

Bethany looked away. Draco stared up at it, as if it were the most fascinating thing he had ever seen. It made her feel sick, angry, and saddened, all at once.

Once the noise died down, Draco reached for Bethany's hand. "Come on," he said, pulling her along behind him. She didn't protest, merely following. Rage was boiling inside her.

Bethany was surprised to see both Lucius and Narcissa inside the tent when they returned. She would have thought they would head off the a Death Eater celebration. "There you are!" Narcissa hugged Draco, then Bethany. Unlike before, Bethany let her arms hang at her sides. "What's wrong, dear?"

"Nothing," Bethany lied, voice trembling with anger. She wanted to go to bed and forget this whole awful night had happened.

Narcissa stepped back, frowning. Before she could ask Bethany anymore questions, Lucius asked "Where on Earth did that ratty jacket come from, young lady?" He glanced at Narcissa. "You didn't buy it at that Muggle store, did you?"

"Of course not!" Narcissa seemed shocked—insulted, even— he would ask her that.

"Potter gave it to her," Draco spat.

"You saw Potter?" Lucius's eyes widened. "What was he doing?"

"Running away with Weasley and the Mudblood," Draco said with pride, glad to be telling his Father what he had seen.

"Stop calling her that!" Bethany ground out, unable to mask her anger any longer. "She has a name!"

"Bethany!" Narcissa tried to soothe her but Bethany was past the point of reckoning with.

"She is my friend!" Bethany insisted, a blazing glare fixed in Draco. "One of my best friends! The least you can do is actually call her by her name."

"In case you have failed to notice," Lucius spoke up, "she is one of the beings that your father wishes to exterminate from the wizarding world."

Bethany, far too upset to think of the consequences that could befall upon her, looked around the tent mockingly. "Huh, I don't see my father here right now. In fact, the one time I recall ever meeting him was a fluke, and we didn't really get on. So why on Earth should I— or you, for that matter, listen to someone who has been dead for years now? Clearly, what he was doing didn't work out well for him!"

Narcissa gasped. It was rare that Bethany was confrontational. At the most, she grimaced when they were speaking or grew silent. Lucius waved his wand lazily. " _Muffiliato,_ " He said. He turned back to Bethany. "Now, I realize that you have... a different set of values than the rest of our family. We have allowed this, and let you keep your friends, as they have made you happy." Bethany dropped eye contact with him, her eyes falling to his discarded robe and mask that laid carelessly across the floor. "However, there has been talk amongst the pureblood families that your Father will be returning soon. It would be in your best interest to cut ties with your little friends now and begin associating with... well, worthier company."

"Someone's worthiness is solely a matter of opinion," Bethany insisted levelly. "My friends are the best people I have ever met. If anything, I am concerned about the company you keep."

"Is that so?" Lucius arched an eyebrow. "I wonder if these friends of yours are a bad influence on you. Perhaps I should prohibit you from sending anymore letters to them this summer."

"Lucius!" Narcissa exclaimed. She pointed to Lucius's robes, which were now on fire.

He gaped at it for a few seconds before pulling out his wand. " _Aguamenti_!" The flames died down, though grey smoke floated through the air. He turned back to Bethany. "How did you do that?" He demanded.

"I didn't do anything!" Bethany protested, but deep down, she knew it was her. After all, this wasn't the first time that she had set something afire without saying anything. She hadn't meant to; she was just so angry...

"Of course you didn't," Narcissa said, and though her words were aimed at Bethany, she glanced at Lucius with a warning gaze. "At least, not intentionally. You're young; your magic gets the best of you sometimes." After a beat of silence, Narcissa said, "I think it is best that we all go to bed."

"Yes," said Lucius, staring at the hole in his Death Eater robes with a mixture of sadness and amazement. "That sounds like an excellent idea."

Bethany clenched her hands into fists and stalked out of the room. She threw herself on her bed, burying her face in her pillow. She wouldn't cry. She wouldn't.

* * *

"Gran didn't want to go," Neville lamented as Harry and Ron eagerly filled him on what happened at the Quidditch World Cup. They were finally headed back to Hogwarts, much to Bethany's relief. "Wouldn't buy tickets. It sounded amazing though."

"It was," confirmed Ron. "Look at this!"

Ron pulled out a miniature figurine of Viktor Krum. Bethany suppressed a groan. Ron hadn't stopped talking about Viktor Krum. She figured that if Draco were here right now, he would proclaim the Krum was Ron's boyfriend instead of hers. As Neville ogled at the figurine, Ron said, "We saw him up close as well, we were up in the Top Box—"

"For the first and last time in your life, Weasley," a familiar voice drawled. _Speak of devil, and he shall appear,_ Bethany thought as soon as she saw Draco leaning in the doorway of the compartment. Merlin, he was dramatic! Bethany wondered if he had been listening outside the door so that he could make an entrance at the right time. At any rate, she was annoyed, making a point to roll her eyes at him.

Bethany wasn't the only one displeased by his impromptu appearance. "Don't remember asking you to join us, Malfoy," Harry said coldly, scowling at Draco.

Draco paid him no heed, instead pointing to Pigwidgeon's cage. A brown, frayed piece of fabric with lace was peeking out of it. "Weasley, what is that?"

Ron grew red in the face and began trying to hide it, but Draco snatched it, revealing a pair of muddy brown dress robes, with yellowed lace cuffs. "Look at this!" Draco cried out, displaying it to Crabbe and Goyle. He looked like a small child on Christmas morning. "Weasley, you weren't thinking of wearing _these,_ were you? I mean, they were very fashionable in about eighteen ninety—"

"Eat dung, Malfoy!" Ron snapped, retrieving his dress robes from Draco, who was still laughing.

"So...going to enter, Weasley? Going to try and bring a bit of glory to the family name? There's money involved as well, you know... you'd be able to afford some decent robes if you won..."

"What are you talking about?" Ron glowered at Draco.

Draco opened his mouth to speak, but Bethany beat him to it. "He's talking about the Triwizard Tournament. Hogwarts is hosting it this year. And of course he isn't, we aren't allowed to compete," she said, directing her words to Draco now. "You know as well as I do that in order to enter you must be of age."

Draco gaped at her, face growing pink. "You weren't supposed to tell them! Father told us not to tell anyone!"

"As if you haven't already told your friends!" Bethany retorted, eyes resting on Crabbe and Goyle, both seemingly oblivious to the conversation taking place.

"I didn't have to!" Draco sneered. "Unlike Weasley, their fathers' actually do something worthwhile at the Ministry. They are already in the know about anything worth knowing!"

"Will you just go away?" Bethany knew she was about to lose her temper. "Nobody wants you here!" She added, in a very snotty sounding voice.

"Ooh, ouch! I'm wounded, I really am!" Draco mimed being in pain, before stepping out of the compartment as Bethany rolled her eyes. "Let me know when you come up with a better comeback!" He called out before closing the door.

Bethany glowered at the door before looking away. Last time she had glared at something like that, she had started a fire. Ron was wearing an equally furious expression as he stood up and slammed the compartment door shut, shattering the glass as he did so. Everyone in the compartment jumped, save for him. "Arse," he scoffed.

"Imagine dealing with that for three months," Bethany said as Hermione repaired the glass.

"You shouldn't let him get to you, Ron," Hermione said quietly. "That's what he wants."

"He doesn't get to me!" Ron insisted, but everyone in the compartment knew that was far from the truth. "Why should I care about whether or not his father's getting a promotion at work or not?"

"Exactly," Bethany spoke up. "I mean, I don't even care and I live there. He just gloats about it to get a reaction." She rolled her eyes. "He's so annoying."

"What's the Triwizard Tournament?" Harry finally asked. "Sorry— I just—"

"It's a competition," said Ron. "It's really dangerous. It's been banned for centuries. I can't believe they've brought it back."

"I am too," said Hermione. Her expression was solemn. "A student died the last time."

Bethany recoiled at the words, recalling how they had been uttered constantly during second year. "Well, hopefully this time nothing like that will happen," she said, shifting in her seat. "I mean, you have to be seventeen to even enter."

Ron grumbled. "I think it's rubbish."

"Don't tell me you would enter if you could!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Why not?"

"Because you could die!" Bethany stared at him in shock. He wasn't serious, was he?

"What, you wouldn't?"

"Of course not!"

"You're joking!" Ron said in disbelief.

"Not at all," Bethany sniffed, crossing her arms. "There isn't a price you could name that would convince me to do something so... so reckless."

Ron shrugged. "I s'pose that's the reason you're not in Gryffindor," he said.

"I wouldn't try and enter," Neville finally spoke up for the first time in several minutes. "I...I don't think it'd be worth it."

"I don't either," Hermione said, looking at Ron in disapproval. "I think Bethany's right. It's a risky endeavor, and I don't think the pros would outweigh the cons." Her eyes fell on Harry. "You agree, don't you, Harry?"

Bethany watched Harry's green eyes dart over to Ron. "I don't know. It might be fun."

"See?" Ron seemed to think he had won a major victory.

"It's three to two, Ron," Bethany pointed out shrewdly.

"Aw, you're no fun, Beth," Ron waved her off.

Bethany visibly deflated. She knew, amongst her friends, she was the one who feared the consequences of breaking the rules the most. She suspected this change had came from her nightmarish second year, in which she had broken _far_ too many rules. Add in the fact that she was the only Ravenclaw, and it made her feel isolated from them— more than she already did.

The conversation carried on, nobody seeming to notice Bethany's melancholy mood. She didn't say much of anything, staring out the window as they approached Hogwarts.

 


	16. Chapter Fifteen: Patience on a Monument

**Momento Mori**

**Chapter Fifteen: Patience on a Monument**

"My dears, it is time for us to consider the stars. The movements of the planets and the mysterious patterns they reveal only to those who understand the steps of the celestial dance. Human destiny can be deciphered by the planetary rays, which intermingle and intertwine, shaping our destinies," Professor Trelawney began, speaking in a soothing voice. "We must allow the stars to guide us. They have seen more than we will ever dream of. They have witnessed the rising and falling of empires, the most terrible of wars, and the most beautiful of creations. Think about it," her eyes lit up, "Cleopatra, Merlin, and Nicholas Flamel have stared up at the night's sky and seen the same thing you have seen! The stars will tell you things, children; about your futures, about your personality, and about the truths locked inside your own soul."

While it was a very pretty, poetic monologue, Bethany still found herself skeptical about the whole subject of Divination. To be honest, she often made things up last minute whenever they had homework and still managed to receive passing marks. While the subject, she felt, had to have some merit, she wasn't certain if Professor Trelawney was the most qualified person for the task. "Now, in the case of Mr. Potter— my inner eyes tells me he was born under Saturn!"

Bethany glanced over to Harry, to see his eyes were glazed over. Ron, who had evidently noticed the same thing, kicked him under the table. "What?" Harry said, snapping back to attention.

"I was saying, my dear, that you were born under the baleful influence of Saturn," Professor Trelawney was clearly irritated that Harry had not been paying attention to her.

"Born under— what, sorry?"

Bethany heard Draco snickering several tables behind her, reminding her why she had chosen to take the seat Hermione had left vacant last year. He had been such a menace all summer— the idea of sitting by him for entire hour gave her a headache.

"Saturn, dear, the planet Saturn! I was saying that Saturn was surely in a position of power in the heavens at the moment of your birth... Your dark hair... your mean stature... tragic losses so young in life... I think I am right in saying, my dear, that you were born in midwinter?"

"No," Harry said. "I was born in July."

Ron covered his mouth, trying to stifle the laughs that were threatening to escape him. Bethany, always weak to the laughter of others, averted her gaze and bit the inside of her cheek, grinning.

Soon, they were documenting where each planet was at their particular time of birth. She stared down at the piece of paper, frowning. "Dear, why haven't you charted anything?" Professor Trelawney asked her.

"I don't know what time I was born," Bethany said. "I know the date, but that's it."

"Send an owl to your parents, dear, and ask them. I'm sure they'll know."

"I'm sure they _would_ , but somehow I doubt they would reply as they are both six feet under," Bethany said, barely restraining herself. Never mind that it was partial lie— given by the way Snape and Lucius talked, her father was lurking in some dark corner of the world, but Bethany doubted an owl could find him. Besides, the idea of sending a letter to ask for the exact minute she was born more than a little ridiculous. She tried to imagine what that sort of letter would sound like. _Hello, sorry to bother you, I know you are probably busy plotting world domination, but could you by any chance tell me the exact time I was born? P.S. I would also appreciate very much if you stopped trying kill my friends, as I am rather attached to them! Oh, by the way, how have been for the past thirteen years?_

Professor Trelawney pursed her lips together. "Then work with what you can," she said, before fluttering off.

"Nice!" Ron cheered. "Wish I could have told her that— hey, Harry, how are you able figure it out?"

"Aunt Petunia made me clean out their filing cabinet once and I found my birth certificate," Harry said, scratching down "Taurus" for his moon. "I don't know why she had it. Maybe Dumbledore sent it to her."

"Huh," said Ron.

"That's cool," Bethany said, looking down at her star chart miserably. How on Earth was she supposed to figure this out? Maybe Narcissa or Lucius would know— they had been close with her parents, after all. She would have to remember to ask them in her next letter...

"Ooh! Professor!" Lavender raised her hand excitedly. "I think I've got an unaspected planet! Oooh, which one's that, Professor?"

"That's Uranus, my dear," said Professor Trelawney, peering over Lavender's shoulder.

"Can I have a look at Uranus too, Lavender?" Ron asked.

Bethany would never admit that it was a well timed pun, but she would confirm that she had in fact kicked Ron's ankle with enough force for him to elicit a yelp. "Merlin, that hurt, Beth!"

Bethany said nothing, ignoring him as she wrote her star sign in as Virgo. Honestly, he was lucky Hermione hadn't been there— she was certain Hermione would have blown a gasket. Stupid boys not realizing who they were destined to be with.

* * *

"Weasley! Hey, Weasley!"

Bethany, who had been talking to Hermione about their upcoming classes, saw Draco. The smile on his face was a clear sign that whatever he had to say wasn't going to be good.

"Your dad's in the paper, Weasley!" Draco crowed, brandishing the _Prophet_ in Ron's face as they stood in line to get dinner. "Listen to this!"

Draco loudly read an article, which was written by a woman called Rita Skeeter, which smeared Mr. Weasley's name and made him sound like a bumbling fool. "Look, there's even a picture of your parents outside their house— if you can call it a house! Your mother could do with losing a bit of weight, couldn't she?"

"Get stuffed, Malfoy!" Harry bit out savagely as Ron began shaking in anger. Bethany placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to calm him down— and hold him back, if the situation escalated to that. Knowing Ron, Draco was one insult away from being pummeled.

"Oh yeah, you were staying with them this summer, weren't you, Potter?" sneered Draco. "So tell me, is his mother really that porky, or is it just the picture?"

Bethany had to grip onto Ron's robes along with Hermione and Harry as he tried to launch himself at Draco. "You know your mother, Malfoy?" Harry said loudly, "That expression she's got, like she's got dung under her nose? Has she always looked like that, or was it just because you were with her?"

"Don't you dare insult my mother, Potter!" Draco exclaimed.

"It's the latter, Harry," Bethany said, projecting so that everyone in their vicinity could hear her. "She only gets that look when Draco doesn't take a shower after he plays Quidditch!"

This earned a laugh from Harry and murderous look from Draco. "Careful, Bethany— Father wouldn't be pleased to hear you're still hanging around this riffraff."

Bethany wasn't sure if he was referring to his Father or hers, but she wasn't going to let him get to her. "As if I care!"

"Come on," Hermione murmured, tugging Ron back. "Let's leave."

"Just keep your fat mouth shut," Harry spat as he turned away.

Without warning, a loud bang went off. A spell shot past, grazing Harry. "OH NO YOU DON'T, LADDIE!" A second bang sounded, warning gasps from the crowd.

Bethany turned around to see Professor Moody, the new Defense teacher, storming down the marble staircase. She glanced to see Draco, but only seeing empty space. She followed the gaze of her fellow students to the floor to see—

"Oh my God!"

A white ferret stared up at Professor Moody with beady eyes, frozen in fear. "Did he get you?" Moody asked Harry.

"No—missed—"

"LEAVE IT!" Professor Moody bellowed suddenly, causing Bethany to jump.

"Leave what?" Harry asked.

Moody jerked his head. "Not you, him." Bethany could see that Crabbe was trying to pick Draco the Ferret off to the ground.

The ferret squeaked, ready to make a beeline for the dungeons. "Oh no you don't!" Moody picked up his wand and levitated Draco. "I don't like people who attack when their opponent's back's turned," he growled, bringing Draco five feet into the air before letting him smack against the stone floor. Draco let out a squeak of pain. "Stinking, cowardly, scummy thing to do..."

"Stop, you're hurting him!" Bethany shouted suddenly, without even thinking about it.

Moody whipped his head. "And who are you?"

"Bethany Riddle, sir," she said, shrinking as she felt all eyes on her. "Please... don't hurt him."

Moody surveyed her before letting Draco fall to the ground. Bethany knelt onto the ground. "Here, Draco," She said, as if she calling a dog. The ferret ran towards her, and she picked him up. "Good boy!" She praised him, patting him on top of his head. The ferret glared at her, prompting her to laugh.

Moody has left and the crowd dispersed, all eyes trained on Draco. "Why'd you stop him?" Ron complained as they began filing into the Great Hall. "That was going to be the best moment of my life! Malfoy, the amazing bouncing ferret!"

"You got to watch him bounce through the air," Bethany pointed out, adjusting Draco in her arms. "Besides, he almost looks cute like this!" To price her point, Bethany bopped him in the nose with her finger, making him screech angrily, which made her friends roar with laugher. "I've always wanted a pet ferret!" She trilled. "You can stay in Khione's cage at nights, and I can put you in my book bag to bring you class everyday! This is going to be so much fun!" She teased him.

Draco squirmed around, but she tightened her grip on him. "Stop that, I'm just joking! Don't you want lunch?"

Draco began squeaking loudly. Bethany imagined he was probably telling about how he would rather be a human again, but she cut him off saying, "Sorry, I don't speak ferret."

Bethany sat down at the Ravenclaw table, setting Draco on her lap. "Hold on, I'll get you some food," she said. "Squeak once if you want it, squeak twice if you don't. Chicken?"

They went through all the food at the table until Bethany assembled a miniature meal on a napkin. "Here you go!" She said cheerfully, presenting it to him. Draco gave her a look of disgust. "I'm sorry, we don't have any extra plates! Besides, it isn't as if you could eat as much— you're a ferret, remember?"

Draco clearly did remember, as he began making a bunch of high pitches noises. Bethany knew it was probably some insult laden comment. "Just be grateful I'm not making you do tricks for this," she told him.

"Bethany?"

Bethany glanced up. "Oh, hi Professor Snape!"

"I've heard some rumors that this ferret here is my godson," he said, nodding to Draco who was currently stuffing his mouth full of carrots. "Is this true?"

"Yes, sir."

"Do you mind putting him on the ground so I can transform him back into a human? I doubt his mother would be pleased to know her son was living his life as a rodent."

"No, she probably wouldn't," Bethany said, stifling a laugh. "It seems such a shame— he's so well behaved!"

"Indeed," Professor Snape said dryly as Bethany scooped Draco up and placed him on the ground. Professor Snape waved his wand once, and suddenly Draco was laying on the floor.

"What is wrong with you! You can't lock me up in a cage with your dirty owl!" He pointed at her.

"Well, I can't now," Bethany said with amusement. "You're much too big to fit. And Khione is a very clean owl, thank you very much."

Draco picked himself off the ground, brushing himself off. "I'm going to tell Mother about this!" He threatened before stalking away.

Bethany went pale but said, "I'm sure she'll be pleased to hear we spent a meal together for once!"

Draco ignored her, continuing towards the Slytherin table. "I regret to inform you that I will have to deduct points from Ravenclaw for not coming to a teacher immediately to have Mr. Malfoy transformed back into a human," Professor Snape said.

Bethany shrugged, still grinning. Even though she didn't relish losing points so early in the year, it was well worth it. "That's alright. I'm sure I'll earn back the points somehow."

"I don't doubt it," Professor Snape said, smiling at her before walking away.

* * *

When Bethany has looked over her schedule the next morning, she had to admit she was nervous about going to Professor Moody's class. She had no idea why he had listened to her of all people when she had asked him to stop bouncing Draco like a basketball, but he had. It was a mystery to Bethany— supposedly this man had tons of Death Eaters in prison. She doubted he recognized her surname— not many did, as Riddle wasn't a wizarding name nor had her father advertised it— and even if he had, she figured a man who had out some of her father's most fearsome Death Eaters in prison wouldn't be afraid of the Dark Lord's teenage daughter.

"Now," he began gruffly as he limped to stand in front of his desk, "Professor Lupin has informed me that you covered dark creatures last year in his class— is that correct?" He barked suddenly.

The Ravenclaws all nodded, taken aback. "Useful as that knowledge is, you're behind on learning about curses. Now, I'm only staying here for a year, so I'm going to make the most of it. "So - straight into it. Curses. They come in many strengths and forms. Now, according to the Ministry of Magic, I'm supposed to teach you countercurses and leave it at that.

"I'm not supposed to show you what illegal Dark curses look like until you're in the sixth year. You're not supposed to be old enough to deal with it till then. But Professor Dumbledore's got a higher opinion of your nerves, he reckons you can cope, and I say, the sooner you know what you're up against, the better. How are you supposed to defend yourself against something you've never seen? A wizard who's about to put an illegal curse on you isn't going to tell you what he's about to do. He's not going to do it nice and polite to your face. You need to be prepared. You need to be alert and watchful." His magical eyes darted around, surveying each of the Ravenclaws, all of which were paying rapt attention.

"Now— You're Ravenclaws, I expect most of you will be able answer my questions— can anybody tell me which curses are most heavily punished by wizarding law?"

Several hands rose into the air, including Bethany's. She didn't usually answer questions in class— and she especially didn't want to answer any questions about the Unforgivables but felt obligated to. She had, after all, lost ten points for her house on the first day. But luck was not on her side today. Moody's eye zeroed in on her. "Miss Riddle?"

"The Imperius, sir," she said, swallowing down her anxiety. The curse she had cast, only as a second year.

"Ah, yes." He stared at her closely. "Can you explain to your classmates what it does?"

"It allows you to control the actions of another," Bethany said, thankful that her voice did not tremble. "They do whatever you tell them to do."

He nodded. "Do you know the incantation as well?"

"Imperio," She said quietly.

"Fifteen points to Ravenclaw," Moody said. He stepped up to the front of the room. "Now I shall demonstrate it for you all."

Bethany's blood ran cold. He wasn't— he couldn't cast it on any of them them— Merlin, what if his eye had stared into her soul and saw that she had used it before? But Bethany watched as he picked up a glass, which contacted a medium sized, ink black beetle. " _Imperio_!"

The beetle jumped off Moody's desk. He moved it with the wand, causing it to leap on top of Mandy Brucklehurst's desk. "Dance!" He commanded it, and it began kicking its legs in rhythm. This earned laughs from Michael Corner, but Bethany felt sick, imagining Ginny struggling and crying out, only to grow silent under Bethany's spell.

"Do you think that is funny, Mr. Corner?" Professor Moody snapped. "What if I made you do the same thing?"

"No, sir," Michael said, bowing his head down in shame.

Moody nodded. "It's just as Miss Riddle said— complete control. Before you were even born, there were a great number of witches and wizards under the Imperius curse— or so some of them claimed." Bethany knew he was referring to the Death Eaters that had used this as their defense to evade Azkaban—just as Lucius had done. "Thankfully, it is possible to resist the Imperius Curse, and I'll be teaching you how, but it takes real strength of character, and not everyone's got it. Better avoid being hit with it if you can. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" He shouted suddenly, startling most of the Ravenclaws. Lisa Turpin even dropped her quill to the ground.

"Does anybody besides Miss Riddle know an illegal curse?"

Again, all hands were in the air. "Miss Li!"

"The Cruciatus curse," Su said.

"Right." He jerked his head. "I presume you know what it does?"

"It's used for torture," she answered. "A lot of Death Eaters used it during the war, like the Lestranges."

Lestrange... Bethany has ran across the name, probably in the book of pureblooded families. "Correct," Moody barked, limping back over to the beetle. " _Engorgio."_

Padma let out a small shriek as the beetle grew in size. When Professor Moody looked her, she said, "Sorry— I just— I _really_ don't like bugs."

"This might be a treat for you, then." Professor Moody pointed his wand at the beetle once more. " _Crucio_!"

The beetle's legs bent as it began to shake. Soon, all six legs began twitching uncontrollably. It was the most grotesque spectacle Bethany had ever seen, but she could not tear her eyes away.

Professor Moody released his hold on the beetle. It felt to its side, but its legs continued twitching. "Anyone know the final curse?"

Several heads nodded, but only one student raised his hand. "Mr. Boot?"

Terry gulped before saying. "The Killing Curse. And it does just what it says," he added.

Professor Moody said nothing to Terry but looked at the beetle. " _Avada Kedavra_!"

Bethany had never, to her memory, heard the words spoken aloud, nor had she ever read them in a book. But she knew those two words. They were familiar, almost like a long forgotten lullaby— and accompanied by a flash of electric green light.

She felt sick.

The beetle laid dead on Moody's desk, its limbs frozen. "Only one person has ever survived the Killing Curse," Professor Moody told them solemnly. "And that person is your classmate, Harry Potter."

Bethany was too nauseated to be astounded by this reveal. "Class is dismissed," Moody told them, and every Ravenclaw began reaching for their supplies, eager to leave.

* * *

Bethany had skipped History of Magic— she was certain Binns wouldn't miss her presence and she needed to recover before she went to any other classes. She set an alarm, in case she fell asleep, but instead she pulled out her copy of _Phantom of the Opera._ She had brought it with her to Hogwarts this year, determined to start reading it. Now, she figured, was as good a time as any. She needed a distraction.

_The Opera ghost really existed. He was not, as was long believed, a creature of the imagination of the artists, the superstition of the managers, or a product of the absurd and impressionable brains of the young ladies of the ballet, their mothers, the box-keepers, the cloak-room attendants or the concierge. Yes, he existed in flesh and blood, although he assumed the complete appearance of a real phantom; that is to say, of a spectral shade_.

Bethany read on, entranced. When her alarm clock went off, she had made it to chapter five. She wished she could stay behind and read more of what was happening, but she suspected that Professor Spout would notice her absence and it would be harder to catch up on a lesson for that class than it would be for History of Magic. Bethany dug around until she found a scrap of torn parchment— a note from either Ron or Harry that she had saved— and placed it inside the book, lovingly setting it on top of her pillow.

Bethany rushed to the greenhouses, red faced and tired once she got there. A few of her fellow Ravenclaws asked her where she had been, and after a quick explanation, they nodded and accepted her response. The Slytherins made it to greenhouse shortly afterward. "So, Riddle," Pansy said loudly, "I didn't realize you liked the gingers."

Bethany felt the blood drain out of her face as she turned around. How did _she_ , of all people, know about Fred? She had only told Hermione and Ginny— they wouldn't tell, would they?

Before Bethany could question Pansy, Draco, who had been talking to Goyle, stepped in. "What are you talking about?" He demanded, glancing back and forth between the two of them.

"You haven't heard?" Pansy's eyes lit up, lips curling with a savage satisfaction. "Riddle is dating Ron Weasley!"

Wait, Ron? Bethany breathed a sigh of relief— her secret had not been found out— but her anxiety returned when she saw Draco's face slowly turning red. His eyes locked with hers for one terrifying moment. "Tell me this isn't true!"

"It isn't!" Bethany exclaimed shrilly. She could feel her face growing warmer and warmer by the second as she was greeted by sneers from the Slytherins.

"I don't blame you for not owning up to it," Pansy crowed gleefully. "I would be ashamed too if I were dating a blood traitor!"

Anger welled up inside her. How dare she insult Ron? "Shut your mouth, you—"

"Alright, class!" Professor Sprout announced loudly. "Quiet down, now! We're going to start our lesson, you can attend to your personal lives later."

This earned a snigger from Pansy.

Bethany sat miserably, knowing that several pairs of eyes were on her. She followed along with the lesson, but was distracted by the looks she was given throughout.

Once the lesson was over, Bethany packed up her belongings, eager to return to her bed in the Ravenclaw tower and read her book. "Bethany, wait!" Draco cried out before she left the greenhouse. He was tucking his book inside his bag. She stood outside the greenhouse, torn between ignoring him or hanging behind. She chose the latter, only resuming her trek to the castle once he was by her side.

"Why does Pansy think you're dating Weasley?" He asked immediately.

"I don't know!" Bethany shook her head, annoyed. "You should ask her, not me!"

"I'll ask her," Draco announced, as if he were addressing a crowd. "We don't need a rumor like that circulating around the school. Father and Mother would be furious."

Bethany gulped. She hadn't even thought about Lucius or Narcissa would do if they heard about this. "Come on," Draco said, "let's walk up to the castle for dinner."

Bethany smiled. "Will you let me feed you like I did the other day?"

"Never!" Draco shuddered. "I'm going to have nightmares! That was a traumatic experience!"

"Hey, I was nice to you!"

"You were going to make you your pet!" Draco said, but it was without malice.

"You made such a cute ferret!" She insisted. "Besides, I was going to ask Professor McGonagall to change you back after lunch."

"Sure you were."

"I was!"

They bickered the rest of way, but they both were smiling and laughing as they did so.

* * *

When Hermione summoned Bethany to the library, Bethany wasn't expecting this. Hermione had presented her with a piece of parchment, smiling proudly. "Spew?" Bethany read aloud.

"It's not called spew!" Hermione scowled. She had been on edge ever since she had approached Bethany. She wondered if it had anything to do with that ridiculous rumor. So far, it had yet to die. Most people didn't care about it, but she had been approached by several older Slytherins, demanding to know whether or not it was true. Still, Bethany wasn't about to bring it up. What if Hermione hadn't heard yet and she only added fuel to the fire? "It's S.P.E.W., and it stands for the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare."

"Like house elves?" Bethany asked.

"Yes— oh, right, of course," Hermione said, "I forgot that you weren't there with us when we discovered Winky with Harry's wand. Well, the point is, I have just discovered how abominably wizarding families treat house elves and how they have, as a species, been brainwashed into slavery."

Bethany nodded. "The Malfoys have elves," she said. "Batty and Winnie. They're so kind and helpful, but sometimes the Malfoys just see them as servants and act as though they have no feelings."

"So you understand!" Hermione seemed relieved.

"Yes, of course."

"I want to make this a real organization," Hermione said, "But so far I have only recruited you and the boys— I'm making Ron be our treasurer and Harry is the secretary. You can be our vice president!""

"I'd love to," Bethany said honestly. "I want to help the house elves as much as you do. It isn't right, the way they are treated."

Hermione beamed at her. "I don't think the boys grasp how important this is. I know that Ron doesn't understand because it's part of the society he has grown up in, but I don't understand how Harry doesn't see how crucial this matter is!"

Bethany didn't want to point out to Hermione that Harry usually had more pressing issues on his mind than the liberation of house elves— for instance, he had to worry about her father trying to kill him. But Bethany nodded and said, "That's strange."

"Isn't it?"

Bethany glanced at the clock. "I wish I could stay and help you right now, but I have to go to my Occlumency lesson," Bethany told Hermione. "I'll see you later, yeah?"

"Yes, of course!"

* * *

"Add the tea leaves now," Professor Snape said as Bethany dropped them into the cauldron. "Yes, that's right," he replied to her questioning gaze. "Very well done."

"Thank you, sir," Bethany said, keeping her mind guarded as she did so.

"You've done tremendous work over the summer," Professor Snape praised her, eliciting a smile from her. "I must confess, I was concerned that without the pressure of school, you might grow lax."

Bethany shook her head. "I knew I had to, sir," she said. "I don't want my father knowing more than he should."

"He won't, if you keep practicing the way you have," Professor Snape said.

A silence fell over them as Professor Snape began bottling the potion they had just brewed. It was a Dreamless Sleep potion, and it was going to restock the hospital wing. "Sir, how well do you know Professor Moody?"

"Not very well, I must confess," he said, capping the bottle. "Why do you ask?"

"He seems... off," Bethany confessed. "He acts weirdly sometimes." She paused. "Did you know he taught us the Unforgivable Curses in class today?"

"Professor Dumbledore had told me he planned on including it in his curriculum."

"It doesn't seem right," she said. "Like what if there was someone like my father in that class? Now he— or she— knows the incantations to the darkest spells!"

"I know this is not what you want to hear, but if there were a student as determined as your father was to commit such nefarious acts, they would not need instruction from Professor Moody on how to do so," Professor Snape said carefully. Bethany stared up at him with wide eyes. "I'm sure you're aware that your father was a charming student that had a great deal of influence on the staff of Hogwarts when he roamed its halls. He had access to books in the restricted section and was able to ask the staff questions about Dark magic without arousing suspicion. Who is to say that somebody else could not do so?"

Bethany dropped her gaze. The situation suddenly seemed even more dire now than it had before. Bethany glanced up at Professor Snape, who was frowning. "You brewed a Polyjuice Potion your second year?" He asked.

Bethany's jaw dropped. He had tricked her into dropping her guard! "Dammit!" She cursed before she could stop herself. "Sorry, Professor, I shouldn't have said that—"

"Said what?" Professor Snape asked innocently.

Bethany buried her face in her hands, groaning. "I'm an idiot!"

"No," corrected Professor Snape. "Merely learning."

"I didn't even realize you were—"

"I wasn't intentionally trying to distract you," he said. "However, I think this proves a very good point. The most skilled of Legimens are able to glean important information from your mind undetected."

Bethany nodded miserably. "If I may ask, why did you brew a Polyjuice potion?"

"Ron and Harry thought Draco was the Heir of Slytherin," she explained, though her words were muffled by her hands. "So we transformed into his friends and snuck into the Slytherin Common Room."

"I don't know whether or not to be disappointed or impressed," Professor Snape admitted. "A Polyjuice Potion is a highly difficult potion to brew, even for adult wizards."

"I wouldn't have been able to do it without Hermione's help," said Bethany. "So it really isn't that impressive. She did most of the work, anyway."

"I highly doubt that," said Professor Snape, and Bethany didn't bother arguing with him. As much as she loathed to admit it, he was biased against the Gryffindors, her friends especially. "I will award five points to Ravenclaw."

"Thank you, Professor."

"Next week, I think, you shall start brewing a Polyjuice potion," he said, "seeing as you have experience already."

Bethany nodded, barely able to hold back a smile.

* * *

"But the Imperius is illegal!"

Bethany was staring at Moody with the utmost horror. This... this couldn't be possible. Mandy Brucklehurst was currently arguing with the Professor over whether or not he could use it, and Bethany was sorely hoping she would win.

"Dumbledore wants you to know what it feels like so you can fight it," Professor Moody stated. "Unless you want to find out the hard way, this is how it'll be done."

Bethany watched with horror as Anthony Goldstein was the first person selected. " _Imperio_."

Anthony's eyes glazed over. Bethany watched as all the tension in his shoulders relaxed. "Jump onto the desk."

Anthony glanced to the empty desk where he had been sitting and leapt into the air, narrowly missing the desk. He made an expression of pain, but otherwise seemed unfazed. Professor Moody released his control. "Whoa!" Anthony exclaimed, turning to Terry and Michael. "That felt so weird!"

"Miss Patil, your up next!"

Padma trembled as she stood in front of the class room, but much like Anthony, she seemed utterly calm once the spell was cast over her. Moody instructed her to do a cartwheel, which she accomplished with ease. "I haven't done that since I was a kid!" Padma exclaimed, surprisingly not horrified after Moody broke the spell.

One by one, the Ravenclaws were called up, Imperio'd, with only Su Li being able to put up much a fight. Bethany, however, was never called to the front of the room, merely sitting in her chair as she watched her classmates stripped of their free will. It was like torture.

Class ended shortly after and Bethany had never been more relieved to leave a lesson.

* * *

Draco walked to Transfiguration, his bag swinging by his side. Crabbe and Goyle were on either side of him. Draco knew he had to talk to Pansy today; everyone in Slytherin was gossiping about it left and right. The last thing Bethany needed was for Mother and Father to hear about this silly thing from somebody's parents.

Once they got to class, Draco sat his bag on the table by Goyle. Pansy was already at her desk, chatting enthusiastically with Daphne, who was tossing her long blonde hair over her shoulder. He was momentarily distracted from his mission, admiring the way her hair seemed to glow underneath the sunlight. "I'll be back in a second," Draco told Goyle, who nodded in response.

"Hey, Pansy?"

Pansy looked away from Daphne, smiling. "Draco! Hi!"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course," Pansy's smile grew even wider. She glanced over to Daphne quickly, whose lips were forming an "o" as she looked back and forth between them, her chestnut brown eyes wide. She had long lashes, Draco noted, before turning his attention back to Pansy.

"Who told you Bethany was dating Weasley?"

Pansy deflated. "What?"

"Who told you that Bethany and Weasley were dating?" He repeated. Merlin, has she not been listening?

Pansy shook her head, looking down at her desk. "Sorry, I just thought you were going to— oh, never mind." Draco's brow furrowed. What was wrong with her? Pansy wasn't usually this flustered. "Daphne told me. She had heard it from Blaise, who told her and Theo, and he heard it originally from Tracey."

Merlin, how was he supposed to follow that?Draco almost asked her to repeat that, but decided it wasn't worth the trouble. "How did Tracey know?"

Pansy shrugged. "She just said that Riddle got jealous in Divination the other day. Weasley said something about Lavender Brown's bum and she went ballistic."

"Oh, that?" Merlin, what was the world coming to? "I was there. She just kicked him in the leg." Draco didn't bother adding that it obviously meant nothing, as Bethany had kicked him in the leg plenty of times.

Pansy shrugged. "That's just what I was told."

Whatever. This was ridiculous. "Thanks for telling me," Draco said as McGonagall entered the room. "See you later."

Draco turned around, missing the wistful look on Pansy's face before she faced the front of the room, sighing.

* * *

"Pansy heard it from who?"

"I'm not saying all that again!" Draco ran a hand through his hair. They were standing outside the castle, talking before their Care of Magical Creatures lesson. "Listen, the point is the only reason people think you're dating Weasley is because you kicked him."

Bethany's jaw dropped. "Kicking? That's hardly a romantic gesture!"

"Tracey Davis thought you were jealous."

Bethany scoffed. "I have no reason to be jealous! I don't like Ron like that! I only kicked him because I thought what he said was crude." It was a partial lie, but Draco didn't need to know the details of Hermione's love life.

"I don't know what to tell you," Draco said with a shrug. "I wouldn't worry. They'll die down soon enough anyway."

Bethany sighed. "I know. But I think they would stop entirely if your _girlfriend_ stopped spreading them," she said with a scowl.

Draco's face went pink. "Pansy's not my girlfriend!"

"I didn't say she was. It's interesting that your mind went there, though." Draco began sputtering, much to Bethany's amusement. "Besides, it's hardly fair. You tease me about Krum all the time."

"That's true," Draco said thoughtfully. He began smirking. "And I'll have even more opportunities to do so soon enough." When he saw her questioning gaze, he said, "You haven't forgotten that Durmstrang is coming to Hogwarts for the Tournament, right?"

Bethany paled. "You wouldn't."

"Wouldn't I?"

"You can't!" She exclaimed, earning a loud laugh from him. "Draco, you can't! Please! I don't know him at all! I can't deal with another— another scandal!"

"A scandal?" Draco arched an eyebrow. "That makes it sound like you're a politician or something."

"Draco!"

"I won't say anything," he promised, still grinning. "But you are much too easy to tease."

 


	17. Chapter Sixteen: A Green and Yellow Melancholy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Several quotes are directly taken from Harry Potter and the Goblet Of Fire.

**Momento Mori**

**Chapter Sixteen: A Green and Yellow Melancholy**

The students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang had finally arrived to Hogwarts. Ron, of course, was gobsmacked by the appearance of Viktor Krum— she had overheard him excitedly asking Harry if he had a quill so that he could get an autograph. She couldn't help but feel excited herself— it was going to be fascinating, learning about other wizarding schools.

The students from Beauxbatons had chosen to sit at the Ravenclaw table— Bethany wondered if it was because of their light blue uniforms. A tall, pretty girl with blonde hair sat beside Bethany, whispering excitedly to her friends in French. Rodger Davies, who was now a seventh year, sat across from Bethany. "This is exciting, isn't it?" She asked him.

"What?" He looked away from the blonde girl, mouth hanging wide open. "Oh, yes. Of course." He returned to gaping at her. Bethany rolled her eyes. It wasn't as if she were a Veela or anything.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and - most particularly - guests," Dumbledore began, smiling at the foreign visitors. "I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable."

After he said that, a girl beside Bethany let out a high pitched laugh. Bethany was astounded. How could somebody have the audacity to be so rude? She would love to explore another school! Bethany glared at the back of her head.

"The tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast," continued Dumbledore, ignoring the rude girl, "I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!"

"So," the blonde beside Bethany said, finally turning to Rodger Davies, "are you going to be entering zis contest?"

"Me?" Rodger asked stupidly. When she nodded, he said, "Oh, yes! Yes, of course!"

"Zat is very nice. I 'ope to enter as well." She leaned forward, gracing Rodger with a dazzling smile. "What is your name?"

"Uh, Rodger. Rodger Davies!" He added his last name hurriedly.

"I wish you all ze luck," she replied coquettishly, winking at him. She turned her head, noticing Bethany. "And you are?"

"Bethany Riddle."

"Fleur Delacour." She smiled. "You are too young to enter, are you not?"

"Yeah," Bethany said, wondering why this girl was bothering to talk to her. "I'm a fourth year."

"Zat must be disappointing," Fleur said, not sounding sorry. She flipped her long hair. "I turned seventeen zis July."

"That must be nice, to do magic out of school."

"Oh, yes. I forget. You Eenglish do zings very differently here," Fleur nodded. "In France, we can do magic outside of when we seexteen, as long as we are with a parent and not in ze presence of— what do you call zem again? Oh, right! Muggles! It is too strict here, I theenk."

"That sounds wonderful," said Bethany. Even though she disliked this girl's sense of superiority, she did enjoy learning about other cultures.

"Eet is," Fleur confirmed. "We are very lucky."

Fleur decided to turn back to her friend, who was chattering away with her in French. Rodger was still staring dumbly at Fleur, not bothering his plate full of food.

As soon as the feast ended, Dumbledore took to the podium again. "The moment has come," said Dumbledore, smiling around at the sea of upturned faces. "The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket—"

The what now? Surely, they wouldn't be bringing a dead body into the Great Hall? That was beyond morbid...

"—just to clarify the procedure that we will be following this year. But first, let me introduce, for those who do not know them, Mr. Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, and Mr. Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports." The entire hall clapped for them both as the rose to their feet.

"Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch have worked tirelessly over the last few months on the arrangements for the Triwizard Tournament, and they will be joining myself, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime on the panel that will judge the champions' efforts."

Dumbledore then began explaining the rules; only three students would participate, with one from each school. They would all be over seventeen years of age, and Dumbledore would be drawing an Age Line to ensure that nobody underage would be able to place their name inside the cup. It was a fact known by mostly everyone, but it still drew criticism, mostly by those who were very nearly sixteen.

Bethany headed back for the Ravenclaw towers, eager to rest and excited to find out who the Champions would be when they were announced the following night.

* * *

Bethany awoke earlier Saturday morning than she usually would. She joined her friends after eating a single piece of buttered toast for breakfast.

"Has anyone put their name in yet?" Ron asked a third year from Gryffindor. Bethany briefly recalled seeing her with Ginny once or twice.

"All the Durmstrang lot, but nobody from Hogwarts so far," she replied.

"Bet some of them put it in last night after we'd all gone to bed," said Harry. "I would've if it had been me...wouldn't have wanted everyone watching. What if the goblet just gobbed you right back out again?"

"That's why I wouldn't even bother attempting it in the first place," Bethany said, feeling second hand embarrassment from the mere thought of what Harry had suggested. "Well, part of the reason."

"Are you still convinced somebody'll end up dead?" Ron asked her, scowling.

"I just don't think it's very safe," said Bethany, crossing her arms. "And you never know what might happen, Ron. Somebody _could_ die."

Before Ron could come up with a rebuttal, they heard someone laughing behind them. Fred, George, and Lee appeared, all three of them gleeful. "Done it!" Fred said triumphantly. "Just taken it."

"What?" Ron asked.

"The Aging Potion, dungbrain!"

"One drop each!" George beamed. "We only need to be a few months older."

Bethany frowned. "Are you sure that's safe? Aging Potions can be awfully dangerous. They're difficult to brew properly, and you have to precisely measure out how much you need."

"We'll be fine!" George insisted. "Don't worry so much!"

"We're going to split the thousand Galleons between the three of us if one of us wins," Lee told them, excited as Fred and George.

Hermione was as doubtful as Bethany. "I'm not sure this is going to work, you know. I'm sure Dumbledore will have thought of this."

"Hermione's right," Bethany said. Merlin, what if they got hurt? Her eyes were fixed on Fred as she said, "I'm sure the line will be able tell that you have altered yourselves in some way and react negatively—"

But the boys ignored her, as Fred stepped through the line. "Oh, why do I even bother!" Bethany whispered furiously to Hermione.

Hermione shook her head, clearly as annoyed.

For a moment, it seemed to work. Fred, delighted, danced around victoriously inside the line, joined by George seconds later. But before either of them could submit their names inside the Goblet, they were fired backwards, both of them sprouting long, white beards, resembling the one Professor Dumbledore had. "See?" Bethany hissed to Hermione. "I bet they added too many crushed beetle eyes— that's a very tricky step— or maybe they didn't add enough nettles—"

The crowd, however, burst into laughs, including Fred and George once they saw how ridiculous they looked. "How do you think Fred looks with a beard?" Hermione whispered to Bethany, wearing a teasing smile.

Bethany allowed herself to laugh before admitting, "I'm not a fan. I've never particularly liked facial hair— but maybe it's the geriatric look that is turning me off."

"What?" Harry glanced over to them, clearly thinking they were talking to him.

"Nothing!" Both girls said in frantic unison before exchanging glances and laughing.

* * *

"Have you heard? Warrington entered!" Draco told her excitedly before the feast began the following day. She hadn't seen him since their classes Friday morning.

"I did," said Bethany. "Rodger Davies entered for Ravenclaw. I hope he gets it— either him or Angelina."

"Angelina Johnson?" Draco asked, sneering. "The Gryffindor?"

"Yeah," said Bethany. "She's really nice."

"Being nice isn't going to help in this competition!" Draco insisted, seeming almost insulted that she would dare suggest it was a worthy reason to hope for someone's success. "I personally think Warrington is the only person who has got what it takes to succeed."

"You're just saying that because he's on the Quidditch team with you and is from Slytherin!" Bethany said, rolling her eyes as they entered the entrance hall.

"He's the only one who'll be willing to give it all he's got to win!" Draco said.

"You mean cheating and playing dirty?"

"Exactly!"

Bethany shook her head. It was useless to try and argue with him over this, especially now. "Whatever. See you later," she said, beelining for the Ravenclaw table.

"Well, the goblet is almost ready to make its decision," said Dumbledore once the feast neared it's end. "I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions' names are called, I would ask them please to come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber, where they will be receiving their first instructions."

The excitement of the Great Hall was palpable. Rodger Davies was seated across from Bethany again, but this time he was seated by Fleur Delacour. Bethany, who hadn't forgotten the kindness he had shown her the first night at Hogwarts, whispered, "Rodger!" When looked her way, she said, "Good luck!"

He responded with a smile and a quick "Thanks," before returning his attention to the Goblet.

A few minutes passed, and by this point, the entire hall was silent, transfixed. Without warning, the Goblet came to life, shooting out red sparks and a piece of parchment. It flew through the air, falling gracefully into Professor Dumbledore's hands. "The Durmstrang champion is...Viktor Krum!"

The entire hall erupted into applause. Krum was clearly popular amongst his classmates, as well as internationally as a Quidditch star. "There wasn't any doubt there!" Bethany heard Linus Vance, a fifth year, shout.

"Bravo, Viktor!" Professor Karkaroff was yelling, even after Viktor had disappeared through the chamber doors. "I knew you had it in you!"

The applause died down as the Goblet roared once more, with a second piece of parchment finding a place in Dumbledore's hand. "The champion for Beauxbatons is... Fleur Delacour!"

Everyone applauded as Fleur rose from her seat, walking to the front of the hall. Bethany was impressed; she wouldn't have been selected by the Goblet if it hadn't felt she was worthy. Perhaps there was more to her than what met the eye.

The sound of wailing drew Bethany's attention away from Fleur. The two girls Fleur had been talking to the night before had burst into tears, clearly upset that they had not been chosen to compete. Bethany couldn't help but feel disgusted; surely, couldn't they be happy for their friend?

This was it; finally, Hogwarts would have its champion. Bethany turned back to the front of the room. Once the Goblet had spit out its final piece of parchment, the entire room was silent as they waited for Dumbledore's announcement. "The Hogwarts champion is...Cedric Diggory!"

The Hufflepuff table cheered louder than anybody as Cedric Diggory stood up. They joined him, screaming and jumping up and down. The other houses were reacting with disappointment, but Bethany clapped for Cedric nonetheless; even though he hadn't been her first (or second) choice, he seemed like a decent person and she was sure he would do well. It also didn't hurt that he was easy on the eyes— that would certainly make it worthwhile to watch.

"Excellent!" Dumbledore exclaimed once the excitement had died down. "Well, we now have our three champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering your champion on, you will contribute in a very real—"

Dumbledore paused, and everyone in the Great Hall watched as, for a fourth time, the Goblet shot out sparks. Gasps were heard throughout the Great Hall as another piece of parchment flew through the air. Dumbledore reached for it, staring down at it for a long time. Bethany watched as he cleared his throat before he read the name on the parchment. "Harry Potter."

* * *

"He cheated! He must have!" Michael Corner raged as the Ravenclaws headed off for their tower. "I bet he tricked someone into putting it in for him—"

"I don't think Harry would do that," Padma Patil interrupted him, glancing at Bethany. "Harry's always been fair. My guess is that somebody did it as a practical joke."

"What do you think, Bethany?" Anthony Golstein asked. "You know Harry the best, out of all of."

Bethany was taken aback. Even though she harbored no resentment for her housemates, they weren't particularly close. She rarely discussed things with them outside of the academics. "I don't know," she admitted. "He did say that if could, he would enter, but I can't see him doing something so risky."

"He's a Gryffindor!" Michael insisted. "They do risky things all the time!"

"Not Harry, though," Bethany defended him. "I mean, yes, he does but— it's never for glory. He does risky things because he thinks it's the right thing to do, not because he wants attention."

Michael snorted. "Could have fooled me!"

"Michael!" Padma exclaimed. "There's no need to be rude!"

"She's just sticking up for him because he is her friend!"

"So? You're my friend, and I'm not about to defend you!" Padma snapped, resulting in a chorus of "oohs!" from the surrounding Ravenclaws. As Michael's face flushed, Padma turned to Bethany. "Come on, Bethany, let's head back to the dorm."

Bethany was surprised. Padma had always been friendly with her, but they had never been close. Padma, while one might stereotype her as being 'girly' like her sister, was best friends with Terry, Michael, and Anthony. "So what did you think about that girl from Beauxbatons?" Padma asked. "I was surprised, weren't you? Like no offense, but I kind of thought she was an airhead, you know?"

"Yeah," Bethany nodded. "She's kind of stuck up, too— she was that girl who laughed when Dumbledore told them he hoped they enjoyed their stay."

"I know!" Padma exclaimed. "I was so mad! Like what's wrong with Hogwarts? So rude!"

Bethany grinned as they kept chatting. Even though Bethany (logically) knew it wasn't nice to talk about others behind their back, it was nice to forget her problems and talk to somebody new every once in a while.

* * *

"Bethany? Hey, Bethany!"

Bethany opened her eyes, glancing. Mandy Brocklehurst was standing beside her bed, peeking through the curtains. "Sorry to wake you, but Professor Flitwick is in the Common Room. He says he needs to talk to you about something really important."

Uh oh. This couldn't be good. "Thanks, Mandy," Bethany said as she got out of bed. It took her ten minutes to brush her hair and put on her robes, but she finally came down to the Common Room. Professor Flitwick was anxiously pacing at the foot of the stairs. "Miss Riddle!"

"Hello, Professor," Bethany said, trying to not let her anxiety get the best of her. "Is...is something the matter?"

Professor Flitwick frowned. "As a matter of fact, there is," he said. He spoke lowly, glancing around. "As I'm sure you are aware, the fact that Mr. Potter will be competing in the Tournament has caused quite a stir. Last night, the staff at Hogwarts cleaned out the Goblet, looking to see who had entered the competition and who had not— and we found numerous sheets of paper with your name on it submitted for the Hogwarts champion."

How could that be possible? Multiple entries? "It wasn't me, Professor," she insisted. Oh, no— what if he thought she was guilty now? She was acting so anxious— and she had guessed something was wrong! Oh, Merlin, she looked so guilty! "I would never enter, Professor! I— If you ask Ron, Hermione, and Harry— oh, and Weasley twins and Lee Jordan, too— they'll tell you that I think this whole competition is dangerous and I don't want any part in it! Please, I swear—"

"It's alright, Miss Riddle," Professor Flitwick said, raising a hand to soothe her. "Enough of the faculty at Hogwarts have observed you to be a rule-abiding student, with only few minor incidents." Bethany wasn't sure she would call petrifying two students and being the Heir of Slytherin a _minor_ incident, but if it meant she was not in trouble, she would take it. "We suspect— like we suspect in the case of Mr. Potter— that somebody out your names in the hope that you would be entered into the competition and harmed in some way."

Oh, Merlin. Bethany closed her eyes. Oh God, oh _God_... what if someone was trying to kill her because of her father? What if somebody knew? "Miss Riddle, do you know of anybody who would put you into harm's way? Has there been anyone spreading rumors about you or trying to hurt you?"

Bethany shook her head before saying, "Some Slytherins have been spreading some rumors about me but I don't think they have anything to do with this, Professor."

He nodded before saying, "Alright, Miss Riddle. We will investigate this, just as a precaution but I want to assure you that you aren't in trouble." He smiled at her encouragingly. "I will go to Professor Dumbledore's office now. Thank you for cooperating, Miss Riddle."

Bethany nodded, suddenly aware that her hands were shaking. "Thank you, Professor."

* * *

Bethany walked down to the Great Hall, deciding that she might as well join her friends for breakfast— and so that she could ask Harry about what had happened the night before. But when she looked over the Gryffindor table, she saw Ron was sitting there alone, sullen as he took a bite of buttered toast.

"Hey!" She smiled, walking over. "Where's Harry at?"

Ron scoffed. "Course you're looking for Harry. That's the only reason you'd bother coming over here. He was sleeping last I saw him."

Bethany stared at Ron, shocked. Where was this attitude coming from? "What's the matter?" It wasn't like Ron to lash out at her like this. She couldn't help but feel hurt.

"Forget it. If you want to talk to Harry, he'll be down here soon. I expect you want to congratulate him for sneaking past the Age Line," he said savagely, stabbing at his sausage.

"Harry snuck past the Age Line?" Bethany hadn't believed it was possible, and from the way Flitwick was talking... but then again, Harry had been known to hide important information from authority figures. If there was one person he would tell about it, knowing he wouldn't be judged for it, it was Ron.

"Well, he had to have," Ron said, mouth full of food, dispelling her previous thoughts. He swallowed before saying, "Either that, or he convinced somebody into putting his name in there for him. I just don't know who."

So... this was all just speculation on Ron's part. Was Ron jealous that Harry was a part of this? "I talked to Flitwick this morning," Bethany glanced back and forth to make sure no one was listening in before she said ,"Apparently, several people entered my name in."

Ron looked up from his plate. "What? How'd you convince them to do that? You didn't even want to enter the Tournament!" He accused, brandishing his fork at her.

"Calm down!" Bethany hissed, realizing that his outburst had attracted unwanted attention. "And I _didn't_ want to enter the Tournament. I'm glad the Goblet didn't pick me, no matter how many times my name was in there. The point is, people did it anonymously. Flitwick said that they think someone was trying to do me in by putting my name in the Goblet that many times."

Ron's eyes widened. "Bloody hell."

"Yeah. They think the same thing happened to Harry," Bethany said sternly. "And if Harry says he didn't put his name in, I would be inclined to believe him. He trusts you more than Hermione and I, Ron. You're his best friend. He would tell you the truth, no matter what."

Ron shook his head. "It's just— if anyone could sneak past that line, it'd be Harry," said Ron. "I just can't let go of that idea. If he had only told me about it—"

"Ron, Harry hasn't anything to tell you!" Merlin, didn't he get it? "He's telling you the truth! Stop being— being—"

"Being what?"

"Stupid!" Once the words left her mouth, she regretted them. His mouth opened then closed, forming a line. "Oh, Ron, I'm sorry! I— I didn't mean to say that! I just— I just meant—"

"I know what you meant," he said, cutting her off with a scowl and a searing glare. "Sorry I'm not smart enough for you. Maybe you should go sit with all the _smart_ people in Ravenclaw instead of with somebody as idiotic as me."

It was a clear dismissal, and a powerful blow to Bethany. Everything about this was wrong. She hadn't meant to say it— Ron wasn't stupid; in fact, he was rather smart. He was brilliant at chess and an amazing strategist. But most importantly, he had been one of her best friends from the start; he was unfalteringly loyal, brave, and one of the best people she had ever met. The fact she had upset him to this degree made her want to cry. She nodded, blinking as the tears began forming in her eyes, and picked up her bag, walking to the library.

* * *

"Bethany! There you are!" She looked up from her Ancient Runes textbook to see Hermione, whose face was pink. "Thank Merlin, I've been looking for you everywhere!"

"Hermione! Have you seen Harry yet?"

"No, I haven't— I've just seen Ron, actually—"

"Oh," said Bethany, closing the book. It had been her feeble attempt to forget her fight with Ron. "How...how is he?"

"Well... he wasn't very happy," Hermione said, chewing on her lip. "If it makes you feel any better, he wasn't happy with me, either."

"That doesn't really make me feel better," Bethany said honestly, staring down at her lap. "I just... I feel bad." It was a poor description of the regret she felt, but nevertheless Hermione understood her.

"I know you do." Hermione gave her a kind smile. "I don't think he's handling this well. He has this idea in his head that Harry's betrayed him."

Bethany nodded. "I don't understand it. Surely he must realize Harry would never keep something like this from him?"

"I think he knows that, logically but... he's ruled more by his heart than his head," she surmised, staring down at the wooden table. "And I think he is jealous as well. I mean, he already has to compete with his brothers, and I'm sure being friends with Harry doesn't help his self esteem any— It's a miracle this hasn't happened sooner, you know?"

Sometimes, Bethany forgot how compassionate Hermione could be when it came to the people she loved. She was an introspective person, much more attuned to personal relationships and emotions than the boys were. Her intelligence wasn't just limited to academics. It was times like these when Bethany began questioning what her role was in their group, when Hermione clearly operated as more than the brains. She thought, in the back of her mind, that Ron wasn't the only person who occasionally was envious of one of their best friends.

Hermione pulled out a napkin with three slices of buttered toast. "I was going to meet up with Harry," she said, "to talk to him. Do you want to come with me?"

Bethany nodded. Harry needed to know he had people supporting him— even if one of those people at the moment wasn't Ron.

"Oh, and um... there's something you should know," Hermione said as they approached the Great Hall once more. "Uh, there's a rumor going around that you and Ron got into... well, a lover's quarrel."

Bethany buried her face in her hands, a multitude of curses running through her mind. "Dammit!" Bethany groaned. "I'm sorry, Hermione—"

"It's alright," said Hermione, who was looking down at the floor. "I— I know that's not true. I know it isn't."

"I should have told you earlier," Bethany said miserably. "Pansy Parkinson told my whole Herbology class about it. Draco said he was going to talk to her, but apparently she didn't listen."

"It's alright— really," Hermione said, giving Bethany a small smile. "I know it isn't true. And I don't blame you. I suspect you didn't want to make it spread any further than you had to." When Bethany nodded, Hermione continued, "You're my friend. My best friend, actually. I mean— I love the boys, but they don't understand things the same way you do."

Bethany pulled Hermione in for a tight hug. "You're my best friend, too."

* * *

Monday morning was a dreary one. The skies, as they so often were these days, were dull and colorless, masked by thick, grey clouds. As Bethany began settling into the routine of the school year, the harder it was to get up each morning. As her alarm went off, she weighed the pros and cons of whether or not she should skip class to savor another hour of sleep. It was the prospect of becoming prefect that reminded Bethany to rise up each morning— but it didn't necessarily mean that she didn't sacrifice breakfast for more slumber.

Bethany yawned her way through Charms, relieved that today was just a lecture and not practical work. As tired as she was, she didn't wholly trust herself with a wand right now. Once the lesson was finished, the Ravenclaws broke apart, heading off to their respective electives.

"Bethany Riddle!" An unfamiliar voice caused Bethany to turn around. A tall Slytherin with fair hair ran up to her. "Hi," he greeted her, flashing her a smile. The pin on his robes revealed to her that he was a prefect. "I don't believe we have ever formally met. I'm Edward Rosier."

"It's nice to meet you," said Bethany politely, taken aback. Slytherins, with the exception of Draco, rarely were friendly towards her.

"Likewise. I understand that there has been some confusion between us—"

"I'm sorry?" Bethany wasn't sure if she was apologizing for inquiring as to what sort of problem that she supposedly had with this boy she had never met before.

"Sorry, that didn't quite come out the way I wanted it to," he apologized. "You see, a lot of us older Slytherins put your name into the Goblet while we were entering our names."

"Oh," said Bethany, suddenly feeling suspicious.

"Professor Flitwick and Professor Snape confronted us— we denied it, of course— I'm sure you understand that we had to save our skins— but from the way they were talking, it sounded like they— and you— thought we were doing it so that you would get hurt."

"So why would you do it?" asked Bethany, feeling more confused than she had before. "Why try and enter me?"

"Well," Edward began, "its no secret this school is prejudiced against Slytherins. We all knew we didn't stand a chance when we entered— the whole Goblet was rigged. But we all wanted a Slytherin victory— ever since Potter's come to this school, we haven't had a chance to shine like we used to—"

"I'm sorry, but how would I help you win a Slytherin victory?" Bethany asked comply, tensing up. Merlin, it wasn't...

Edward smiled again at her. "I think you know. After all, you _are_ Slytherin's heir. And your father is so respected by all of us— he'd be so proud if his daughter won—"

"I'm afraid there has been a mistake," Bethany cut him off, her blood feeling like ice as she was seized by fear. "I think you have confused me with somebody else. Goodbye." With that, she all but fled from him, making her way to Care of Magical Creatures as fast as she could.

* * *

Bethany was leaving the dungeons as the Slytherins waited outside. Bethany opened her mouth to greet Draco but when she saw his chest she found herself saying, "What is this?"

"Like it? I made it myself," Draco beamed. The badge on his chest read _Support Cedric Diggory— The Real Hogwarts Champion_. "Come on, Bethany— you can't begrudge me for supporting Diggory, can you? Potter is your pal, after all, not mine."

Bethany rolled her eyes. "How very clever."

"Oh, wait 'til you see what else they do, Riddle!" Pansy Parkinson crowed.

Bethany frowned. "What else—"

"Nothing!" Draco insisted, glaring at Pansy. "They don't do anything else—"

But it was too late. "Yes, they do!" Crabbe insisted. He tapped the badge once, and red letters swirled away, giving way to green. The badge now read _Potter Stinks!_

Bethany's jaw dropped as Pansy began laughing. "Hey, Malfoy, can I have one of those?" Michael Corner asked, having just seen the badges.

Bethany's eyes narrowed. Draco, who had grown very pale, said, "Sure," in a very weak voice.

Bethany, not trusting herself to not hex him, stormed off, nearly bumping into Ron on her way. Ron's eyes were wide, as if shocked he had seen her. Bethany, embarrassed, clutched her bag closer to herself and ran off.

* * *

"How are you two lovebirds doing?" Bethany asked Harry and Hermione teasingly as she joined them in Transfiguration, referencing the newest article from Rita Skeeter. Ron still hadn't spoken to her or Harry, instead spending his time with Dean and Seamus.

"Bethany, be quiet!" Hermione hissed, glancing around fearfully.

"I'm only joking," Bethany said, worried that Hermione might actually be upset. "It makes me feel better to know I'm not the only one having rumors about who I am supposedly dating being spread around the school."

"Not just the school," Harry grumbled. "It's all over the _Prophet_."

"Nobody in their right mind will pay any attention to it," said Bethany, trying to ease their minds. "The only true part about it are that you, Fleur, Krum, and Cedric are the champions. And the part about Hermione's good looks," she added in.

Hermione blushed. "I don't know if 'stunningly pretty' is how I would describe myself," Hermione said.

"Of course you wouldn't, you're too modest."

"Wait— who're people saying you're dating?" Harry asked.

"Oh, you haven't heard about the tortured love affair Ron and I have going on? To be honest, I don't know much about it either, but it sounds awfully interesting," Bethany said, trying to deliver it in a deadpan, but her smile gave away her amusement. Either way, what she said caused Hermione let out a laugh, much to her relief.

Harry, finally cracking a smile, said, "I didn't know anything about it. Strange how we're all dating each other."

Bethany grinned, pleased with herself. Usually, Ron was the one making them all laugh, but without him here, it gave her the opportunity to test out the waters. That wasn't to say she was pleased by his absence— in fact, she missed him terribly.

"Open up your textbooks to page 239," Professor McGonagall instructed them, and Hermione left Bethany and Harry as she went to go sit by Ron, who was several seats ahead of them. Bethany stared at the back of his head sadly as she began flipping through the pages of the book. She knew she ought to apologize— after all, regardless of how she felt about his dismissal of Harry, she had been in the wrong. Still, it was difficult to initiate such a difficult conversation.

After class, Bethany managed to corner Ron before he left the classroom. "Can we talk? Please," she added when she saw the surly expression on his face.

"Fine."

"I just— I shouldn't have insulted you. I'm sorry. Your problems with Harry aren't my business, even though I wish the two of you would just make up already," Bethany said. "I'm really sorry. I am."

Ron's expression softened. "I reckon I was acting like an arse," he admitted, a familiar smile creeping on his lips. "So... are we friends again?"

"We never weren't friends," Bethany said before hugging him.

"Aww, look! They're back together!"

Bethany whirled around to see the Slytherins filing in for their Transfiguration. Draco wasn't there yet, thank God, but Pansy was grinning, giggling behind her hands.

Bethany glowered at her. "Oh, go away!"

"You go away! I'm here for my lesson! Shouldn't you and your _boyfriend_ be off to some other class?" Pansy demanded.

Ron made a rude gesture, eliciting laughs and gasps from the few Hufflepuffs who were in the room. "Come on, Beth, let's leave," Ron said, glaring at Pansy.

"Of course," Bethany said seriously. "After you, _dahling_."

Ron snorted as he laughed, causing Bethany to erupt into giggles as they left the Transfiguration class room.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who has read, subscribed, left kudos, and commented! I hope all my American readers had a fantastic Thanksgiving!


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that it took longer than usual to update! As always, a number of quotes have been directly taken from Harry Potter and the Goblet Of Fire.

**Momento Mori**

**Chapter Seventeen: Sighs of Fire**

Dragons. The first task had been _dragons._

Bethany had watched in the stands with equal levels of excitement and anxiety. On the one hand, she didn't want Harry to be harmed, but at the same time, she didn't want the dragon to be hurt. "Is this ethical?" She asked Ron, watching as Viktor Krum faced off against his dragon.

"Course it is!" Ron insisted. "Charlie wouldn't want anything to happen to them. He loves dragons."

Bethany could see why. They were fascinating creatures. She couldn't pull her eyes away from them. "Still... it seems dangerous all around. For the champions and the dragons."

Ron shrugged. "It's been approved by the Ministry. It must be alright."

"Just because it's within the confines of the law doesn't necessarily mean it is right," Bethany pointed out, watching as the dragon blasted fire at Krum, who ducked behind a boulder. "Oh, wow! Did you see that?"

"I have eyes," Ron said, earning a light kick on the ankle. "You're awfully aggressive, you know?"

"Oh, quiet!" Bethany grinned. Hermione, who was on Bethany's opposite side, said nothing, her eyes fixed on the dragon. Bethany figured she was nervous about Harry, who was up next.

They continued watching as Krum captured the egg. Bethany had to admit, she was disgusted so far by nearly all the tactics used by the champions. Cedric has transfigured a rock into a dog, and it had been hard for her to watch as the dragon chased the Labrador around, trying to eat it. But it was Krum who had really made her blood boil as he stung the dragon in the eye. It was clear that the creature was in agony as she let out a loud, mournful roar, trampling on her eggs. Only Fleur had been humane, attempting to lull the dragon sleep. It didn't seem fair, how they were being treated. It was unfair; even though Bethany realized all four of the Champions could easily be harmed if they didn't do something to distract the dragon, it had been their choice (with the exception of Harry) to enter the Tournament. The dragons had no say in whether or not they were willing to put themselves and their eggs in danger. Suddenly, Bethany realized she understood where Hermione's passion for helping the house elves came from.

Finally, as the Hungarian Horntail was lead into the Quidditch stadium and situated with her egg, Harry stepped out. He was tiny compared to the massive dragon, whose fangs peeked out from under her lips.

Harry struggled as he fought against it, but once he summoned his broom, it was easy for him to capture the egg. Bethany, along with the others, cheered for his victory.

The three of them moved to the tent, eager to congratulate him as Madame Pomfrey fussed over him. "Harry, you were brilliant!" She professed, pulling him into a hug.

"You really were!" Bethany said, embracing him once Hermione was finished. "That was amazing! I bet Krum wishes he would have thought of using his broomstick!"

Harry didn't seem to hear either of them, for he was staring at Ron, who had gone very white. "Harry," he said, "whoever put your name in that goblet— I— I reckon they're trying to do you in!"

Really? That was what he chose to say, after weeks of silence? "Caught on, have you? Took you long enough!" Harry shot back. Before Ron could apologize, or Hermione or Bethany could try and alleviate the tension, Harry said, "It's okay. Forget it."

Ron shook his head. "No, I shouldn't've—"

"Forget it," Harry said again.

Bethany knew, in that moment, all was forgiven. Her heart grew full as they both stared at each other, grinning from ear to ear. Their group was finally at peace once more. Hermione was also feeling emotional, bursting into tears. "There's nothing to cry about!" Harry insisted.

"You two are so stupid!" Hermione wailed. She hugged both of them before she ran off.

"Barking mad!" Ron stared after her, visibly shaken by her response.

"She's just glad," Bethany said with a grin, blinking to suppress her own tears. "And so am I. It wasn't the same." She didn't need to elaborate for them to know what she meant.

"It really wasn't," Harry agreed, glancing over to Ron as if to assure him.

Ron, however, was done with discussing his feelings for today. "Harry, c'mon, they'll be putting up your scores..."

Harry and Krum ended up tied for first; Bethany, still indignant on the behalf of the Chinese Fireball that Krum had so grievously injured, believed he deserved to come in dead last.

As they walked back up to the school, numerous students— including, much to Bethany's disgust, Michael Corner— congratulated Harry on his victory. "Not wearing his _Potter Stinks_ badge now that you've proven that you can beat Cedric," Bethany said, glaring at the back of the pompous boy's head.

Suddenly, a middle aged woman with blonde hair stepped out. Her lips were painted with bright red lipstick, contrasting sharply against her lime green robes. "Congratulations, Harry!" She trilled, a quill and piece of parchment hovering beside her. "I wonder if you could give me a quick word?"

Bethany knew who she must be now; Rita Skeeter. Harry had nothing kind to say about the woman, and to be honest, Bethany didn't blame him. She seemed like Pansy, all grown up. What kind of pathetic woman made up rumors about teenagers and used it to earn money? It was sad, really.

"Yeah, you can have a word," Harry said savagely. "Goodbye."

Bethany laughed loudly, earning a glare from the woman as her, Harry, and Ron beaded back towards the castle.

* * *

"It just makes me upset, you know? I can't stop thinking about that Chinese Fireball. I'd Owl Charlie about it, to see if she is okay, but I don't know him very well," Bethany said, chewing on her bottom lip. Her and Hermione were in the library, studying for an Ancient Runes test. Their time was nearly up; Hermione was going to work on more S.P.E.W. related things, and Bethany had promised Draco that they could work together on it as well. She had forgiven him for the silly badges on the condition that he threw his out. Unfortunately, it was too late to stop the circulation of them since he had already given so many away, but Bethany had noticed that only the Slytherins seemed to continue wearing them. Hufflepuff had come to terms with their school's second champion and the Ravenclaws were now fully supporting Harry as well.

"I know what you mean," Hermione said, scratching down a translation. She looked up. "Bethany, have you thought about looking into a career that deals with magical creatures? You obviously feel passionately about these dragons."

"I hadn't," Bethany said. It really wasn't a bad idea, come to think of it. "I've thought about working at the Ministry in some way, but there are so many departments that I wouldn't know where to begin looking. But I like potions as well..."

"Obviously you don't have to decide on a career today!" Hermione said, sensing that Bethany was about stress herself out. It was rather the interesting reversal of roles. "But... it is something to think about."

Bethany nodded. "Yeah. Thanks, Hermione."

"Bethany!" A loud whisper caused Bethany to turn her head. Draco was standing beside a bookshelf, face red and his lips turned into a scowl. _Oh no,_ Bethany lamented, sensing he was upset about something. He motioned her over.

"Do you mind?" Bethany asked Hermione. "I'm sure it's nothing, but—"

"Go ahead," Hermione said with a smile. "I'll just finish this up and head to the Gryffindor Tower. See you later?"

"Yeah, of course. Bye, Hermione." Bethany quickly gathered up her books and quills, walking over to where Draco was standing. "What's the matter?" She asked once she reached him.

"Okay, I know I was teasing before but... Krum keeps staring at you."

Bethany scoffed. He was mad! "As if! How thick do you think I am? What's next? Are you going to try and say Fleur Delacour fancies you?"

Draco's face had flushed. "You can mock me all you want, I saw what I saw! He's been sitting there the whole time I have been here, and he keeps looking at you!"

Bethany frowned. Krum was in the library? Bethany glanced, only to see he was sitting down at another table, only feet away from where she had been sitting with Hermione. He had a book propped open, but his gaze was fixed on Hermione as she wrote down a few last minute notes. "You dolt! He's clearly looking at Hermione!"

"He can't be looking at Granger!" Draco seemed aghast. "She's not even pretty!"

"Yes, she is!" Bethany insisted, face flushing. "Just because you are blinded by your prejudice doesn't mean everyone is!"

"I'm telling you, he was looking at you!" Draco insisted.

Bethany shook her head. "You're mental. Now do you want my help studying for this test or not?"

"Fine," Draco grumbled, stomping off to another table. Bethany rolled her eyes. Merlin, he was acting like such a child!

Bethany waved to Hermione when she saw her friend was getting up to leave, and noticed as Viktor Krum's eyes followed her as she left. "See? I was right!" She hissed, elbowing Draco and nodding to Krum. "He's clearly interested in Hermione."

"Then why is he walking over here?" Draco asked, smirking.

"What?" Indeed, Viktor Krum had gathered up his belongings and was walking towards their table. Bethany incredulously glanced to Draco, whose expression plainly read 'told you so'.

"Hello," Krum said as he reached their table. "Could I have a vord?"

"Um, yeah, sure," said Bethany, suddenly feeling flustered. Truth be told, even though she did not hold Krum in the highest esteem, it was still a shock to be speaking to an international Quidditch player.

Krum lead Bethany off by the window. "Zat girl you vere talking vith earlier— she is your friend?"

"Yeah. Her name is Hermione Granger," Bethany said. "She is one of my best friends."

Krum nodded, gulping. "She is uh...very pretty. And she has a kind heart. I have 'eard the two of you talking about ze elves."

Bethany flushed. Hopefully he hadn't overheard her talking about her opinions on his mistreatment of the dragons. "She really does," Bethany agreed.

"I 'ave 'eard 'ogvarts is 'osting ze Yule Ball," he continued, and Bethany noticed a blush creeping onto his cheeks. "Do you think, if I asked her, your friend vould go vith me?"

Holy mother of Merlin, she hadn't expected that! Bethany hadn't even heard about the Yule Ball yet... "I'm not sure," Bethany said honestly, trying regain her wits. And it was the truth; after all, Hermione still liked Ron... but then again, Hermione had told Ginny to try and date other guys instead of waiting around for Harry to notice her... "I think you should get to know her better before you ask her. It'll help if she gets to know you as well."

Krum nodded. "I see. Thank you very much."

"It's no problem," said Bethany.

"Also... I could not help but overhear— forgive me," he said hastily, "but I am very sorry about ze dragon. I vas trying to protect myself. Durmstrang... eet does not offer ze same sort of defensive spells you 'ave 'ere at 'ogvarts. I vish I knew less destructive spells."

Bethany immediately felt herself grow pink. Great, now she felt like world's biggest jerk! Krum clearly was upset about this, if his sorrowful expression was anything to go by. "That's... I'm sorry," she found herself blurting out, "I... I think I misjudged you. You seem like a nice person. I can tell you mean it."

"Thank you." He nodded his head once. "And I am not upset vith you. You have a kind heart as vell, to care for zose creatures." With that, he left.

Draco, who had been watching the whole encounter with rapt attention, immediate began questioning her as she returned to their table. "So? Is Krum your boyfriend now?" Unlike before, where he had been teasing, there was an edge in his voice and a steeliness in his gaze.

"No," Bethany scowled at him. "He wanted to ask me about Hermione, actually."

Draco's terseness disappeared, but he let out a groan. "What in Merlin's name is wrong with him? He's an international Quidditch player! He could have any girl in the world, and he's wasting his time on _Granger_? Talk about lousy taste!"

"I think Krum's taste in women is just fine," Bethany bristled, scooting closer to the table. "Yours, on the other hand, is questionable."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Draco snapped, flipping open his book. "You don't know who I fancy!"

"Pansy Parkinson is all but clinging to your robes whenever I see her," Bethany rolled her eyes.

"You always say stuff like that," he grumbled, "but I _don't_ fancy Pansy, and I never have."

"You don't?" Bethany had always assumed the attraction was reciprocated in some capacity. Why else would he let her hang around if he didn't? Perhaps it was her bias talking, but Bethany saw no redeeming qualities in Pansy.

"No," Draco shook his head. "She's just a friend."

"She wants to be more than that."

"I know," Draco ran a hand through his hair. "But if I were to tell her that outright, she wouldn't want to hang out with me anymore."

Bethany contemplated asking him what about Pansy was worth keeping around, but decided against it. She wasn't in the mood for a sulking session. "So... who do you fancy?" Bethany asked, genuinely curious. The only time she ever recalled Draco ever displaying any overt attraction to another person was with the Veelas at the World Cup, and they didn't count. But from the way he was talking, there _did_ appear to be somebody...

"Only if you tell me who you fancy first," Draco said, smirking.

Bethany froze. Was it... no, it definitely was _not_ worth it. She could only imagine the ensuing chaos would be like if Draco told Lucius and Narcissa— or, for that matter, anybody else. "Never mind," she said quickly, while Draco laughed.

* * *

Occlumency lessons were becoming less and less frequent. In fact, it didn't feel much like Occlumency lessons anymore. Bethany would arrive to Professor Snape's office in the evening, helping him sort ingredients or brewing potions. He shared some of his most prized secrets for ensuring the potions were more potent. All in all, it was rather fun— the only catch was that she had to block out her thoughts the whole time.

"Professor," Bethany asked, as she placed a jar of Bulbadox powder on the shelf, "what sort of careers did you look at, before you decided to become a teacher?"

Professor Snape froze. "To be completely honest with you, Bethany, I didn't think much about my future career," he said finally. "When I was younger, I wanted to be a potioneer. I had a natural aptitude for potions, but once I came to Hogwarts, my favorite class was Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Bethany gaped at him. "Really?" So far, Defense was her least favorite subject this year— next to Herbology, of course.

"I was... more fascinated by the dark arts side of it," Professor Snape said, bowing his head. He looked ashamed. "I became friends with... unsavory people once I came to Hogwarts. Most of them are in Azkaban now. They convinced me to join them in serving your father." Bethany was glad she was no longer holding the glass jar, because she was certain if she had, it would have shattered on the floor. Professor Snape, her favorite Professor, a Death Eater? It didn't seem possible. "It wasn't until after I joined that I realized what a mistake I had made," Professor Snape continued, "But by then, it was too late. The damage was done." He swallowed. "After your father vanished, I came to Professor Dumbledore and he gave me a second chance and a position as a teacher here at Hogwarts."

Bethany glanced at the dusty shelf, feeling more than a little disappointed. Of course, she had suspected he must have held less than satisfactory views in the past to be such close friends with the Malfoys, but she never suspected he could be capable of such monstrous things. Still, she sensed he felt true remorse for his actions— she couldn't judge him too harshly when she knew he probably punished himself enough.

"Do you like teaching, sir?" She said, eager to steer the conversation away from the heavier topics.

"I find it a rewarding career," Professor Snape said, pleased that she had changed the topic. "It becomes trying at times— not everyone is as invested or as talented at potions as _some_ students are." Bethany grinned at that. "But the few students who choose to put effort into their work make it worth it, in the end."

Bethany smiled, reaching for the powdered newt eyes so that she could place them on the shelf. "Bethany?" She turned around, looking at him. "I trust you will keep this information between us."

"Of course, sir," Bethany assured him. Professor Snape was not a perfect person, by any means, but he had her complete trust.

* * *

As winter drew closer, anticipation for the Yule Ball mounted at Hogwarts. Draco could tell that Pansy was hoping he would ask her... he couldn't bring himself to tell her he had his eyes on another girl— and one of her closest friends, at that.

Draco watched Daphne Greengrass out of the corner of his eye as she giggled with Pansy about something Blaise Zabini had said. "So, Draco," Theodore Nott said, taking a seat beside Draco on the sofa in the Slytherin Common Room, "have you got a date for the Yule Ball yet?"

Draco shook his head. "You?"

"Yeah," he grinned. "Just asked Tracey to go with me. Dad's going to flip," he said with a mirthful laugh.

Draco nodded. Tracey Davis, unlike many other Slytherins, was a half blood. Her Mum had been a Selwyn, but had defied all societal norms and married a half blood wizard. It wasn't as much of a crime as marrying a Muggleborn, but it was something that made Tracey stand out from the rest of the Slytherins. None of the Slytherins in their year minded that she wasn't pure blood; they were very open minded about the whole thing. Still, knowing how Mr. Nott was, he would be scandalized to know his son was going to be cavorting with a half blood at the Yule Ball. He was even more old fashioned than Draco's father.

"Tracey's a decent girl," Draco said, "I hope you have a good time."

"I'm sure we will. She's one of my best mates," Theodore said. Quietly, he said, "Truth be told, I wanted to ask Daphne."

Instantly, Draco felt his stomach drop. "You did?" He asked, not betraying his inner thoughts.

"Yeah. She's fit, you know?" Both Theo and Draco's eyes fell to her. Pansy was talking now, but Daphne appeared not to be listening. She was busy inspecting her pink painted nails. "She's Blaise's girl, though," Theo said with a sigh.

It felt as though yet another dagger were piercing him. "I didn't know they were dating," Draco said levelly, staring at the flames flickering in the fireplace.

"They're not really dating— he took her to Hogsmeade last week though," Theo said with a shrug. "You know how Blaise is. He usually loses interest in a girl within a week— but then again, Daphne is one of the best looking girls in our year. I think they'll be in each other's company for a while."

Draco nodded, agreeing, but not voicing his inner emotions. "You know, I don't think Pansy has a date yet," Theo nudged him. "She'll say yes to you, for sure."

"I know," said Draco, leaning against the couch, feeling miserable. "I'm probably going to ask her." He doubted there would be nobody left in their year, and he wasn't about to ask out a third year.

Theodore laughed. "Well, good luck, mate. You're going to want to get a move on it. All the good looking girls will be taken soon."

Draco sighed. He was right. Draco didn't want to get stuck going to the ball with someone like Eloise Midgen— if the idiot had just left her pimples alone, her face might not have looked like such a wreck afterwards.

Of course, it had been stupid to think Daphne could be his date. On top of being one of the most attractive girls in Slytherin (and, as Theo has pointed out, one of the prettiest girls in the fourth year), she was Pansy's best friend. Even though he didn't feel the same way, Draco didn't want to hurt Pansy's feelings. If he were to ask out her best friend, he knew she would be a wreck. It was best this way, that she was going with Blaise— at least Pansy would get the Yule Ball she wanted, even if nobody else did.

"Father tried to make me ask that Ravenclaw," Theodore said, seemingly out of nowhere.

Draco frowned. "Which Ravenclaw?"

"That one that lives with you. You know, the one who hangs out around Potter?"

Bethany? Draco tried to imagine the idea of Bethany going to the Ball with _Theodore Nott_ , of all people. It sounded mad; he didn't think they had ever spoken to one another. If he had tried asking her, Draco was confident she would have turned him down simply for that fact alone. "Did he tell you why?" Draco asked.

Theodore shrugged. "No. Everyone says she's _his_ daughter, but it's not like I care about any of that. Besides, I didn't need Weasley attacking me. Not worth it."

Draco rolled his eyes. "She's not dating Weasley." At this point, Draco felt as though he were beating a dead Hippogriff. No matter how many times he tried to kill that rumor, it continued rearing it's ugly head.

"Eh, still not worth it," Theodore said, waving it off.

"Why the hell not?" Draco demanded, suddenly angry. He felt as if a furious beast had sprung to life inside his chest. What was wrong with Bethany?

Theodore, not sensing Draco's animosity, shrugged. "She's just... I don't know. Like she isn't the ugliest girl here, but she isn't a knockout either. Just... you know. Average." Before Draco could angrily insist that looks weren't everything, Theo said, "I will say though that she does have some pretty nice ti—"

"Don't finish that sentence!" Draco warned him, whipping out his wand and pointing it at the other boy. It felt so _wrong_ , listening to Theodore talking about her as if she were some random girl— never mind that she was a random girl to him.

"Whoa, sorry!" Theodore said, not sounding sorry, but holding his hands up in the air.

"You'd better be!" Draco had no idea where this aggression was coming from. The only person who had gotten under his skin like this was Potter.

Now aware that the rest of the Common Room was watching the whole exchange, Draco relaxed, slipping his wand into the pocket of his robes. It was best now to act as though nothing was wrong. He straightened his posture and walked over to stand beside Blaise, in front of Daphne and Pansy. "Do you want to go to the Yule Ball with me, Pansy?" He asked calmly, doing his best not to look at the girl beside her.

Her cheeks turned pink. "I'd love to, Draco."

Unable to think up a suitable reply, he nodded before stalking off.

* * *

Bethany sat down beside Hermione and Ginny, both of whom were in deep conversation at the Gryffindor table at breakfast the next morning. "Hey," Bethany greeted them.

"Hi, Bethany," Ginny was beaming. Hermione also seemed to be suppressing excitement, albeit not very well.

"What's going on?"

"Tell her, Hermione!" Ginny said, practically bouncing with excitement.

Hermione leaned over and whispered, "I'm going with Viktor Krum to the Yule Ball."

"Oh my goodness!" Bethany squealed. "Congratulations!"

"You're not mad?" Hermione asked. "I know you were upset about the dragon thing—"

"No, no. We talked about it," Bethany explained. "He was remorseful about it. He was asking me about the best way to ask you."

"Ooh! He must really like you, Hermione!" Ginny said before taking a bite of her toast.

"Has anyone asked you to ball yet, Bethany?" Hermione questioned, grabbing her glass of pumpkin juice.

"No," Bethany said, and she couldn't help feeling sorry for herself. It seemed as if everyone around her had a date for the Yule Ball, but so far things hadn't been looking good for her. She supposed, miserably, that she would just show up without a date.

"I don't think Fred has a date yet," Ginny said slyly. "Maybe you should ask him."

Bethany shook her head furiously. "I can't ask him! I'll look like a fool. Besides, the boys are supposed to ask the girls!" As soon as she said it, she winced internally. _Great_ , she thought, _I just set feminism back fifty years._

"This isn't 1894, Bethany," Hermione said in what could only be construed as a disapproving tone. "You can do whatever you want."

"Yeah, but... I don't _want_ to ask him." Her skin crawled at the mere thought of it. How could she begin to explain the utter mortification she would experience if he turned her down?

"Why not?" Ginny asked. "He likes you!"

"Not how I like him," she lamented.

"You don't know that unless you ask him," Hermione pointed out.

Bethany, feeling more than a little irritated by their attacks, said, "I don't see either of you asking out the boys you like," before sticking out her tongue. It seemed as if her words, as childish as they seemed, worked, because both girls were now somewhat embaressed.

Before either Hermione or Ginny could respond, the boys joined the. Ron grinning from ear to ear. "Is it true? Did Neville really ask you to the Yule Ball?"

"Yes," Ginny and Hermione said in unison.

Ron's eyes grew wide. "He asked you too?" He gaped at Ginny.

"Yes," Ginny crossed her arms over her chest.

"You turned him down, didn't you?"

"Of course I didn't!" Ginny seemed shocked he wouldn't even suggest it. "I can't go to the Ball unless I'm invited!"

"Bloody hell!" Ron shook his head. "Any way... I liked the excuse you came up with, Hermione. Telling him you already had a date. Good save! But now you're going to have somebody to back it up—"

"Ron, are you asking me to the Yule Ball?" Hermione asked, her eyes wide. Bethany covered her mouth with her hand, hiding her smile. Merlin, was Ron coming to his senses? A quick glance at Ginny told her that she was thinking the same thing.

"Well, you're a girl—"

"Well-spotted," Ginny quipped, earning laughs from Bethany and Harry.

"Oh, shut it! Harry and I need dates," Ron said impatiently. "We're going to look stupid if we don't have any partners!"

Bethany saw Hermione's expression sour. Then again, Bethany didn't blame her. It wasn't the most romantic proposal to a dance, and it sounded more like a last resort. "All the good-looking ones taken, Ron?" She asked, sounding bitter. "Eloise Midgen starting to look quite pretty now, is she? It's too bad you didn't ask me sooner, because I'm already going with somebody!"

"Oh come on!" Ron said loudly. "We know you just said that to get rid of Neville—"

"Just because it's taken you three years to notice, Ron, doesn't mean no one else has spotted I'm a girl!"

With that, Hermione pushed her plate away from the table and stormed off. "She's making it up," Ron shook his head.

"No, she's not," Ginny glared at her brother before biting into her toast again.

"Who is it, then?"

"I'm not telling you, it's none of your business!"

"Do you know, Beth?" Ron asked, appearing very distressed.

Bethany thought about giving a similar (though considerably less harsh) response, when an evil thought entered her mind. She pushed back the smile that was threatening to form before she casually said, "She's going with Draco, of course."

Harry, who had been taking a drink of his pumpkin juice, spat it all over the table. That, in combination, with Ron's horrorstruck face, made Bethany laugh hysterically. "I'm joking, I'm joking!" Merlin, what a nightmare that would be!

"Merlin!" Ron places a hand over his heart. "Don't do that ever again!"

"Don't ever do what?" Fred asked, walking up behind him with George and Lee. Bethany's laughter disappeared as her gaze settled on him.

Ron scowled. "Oh, nothing. Beth's just a liar."

Hearing it out loud again was enough to send Bethany into another fit of hysterics. Even Ginny was giggling now. "It was funny..."

"So," Fred grinned. "Are you going to ask Hermione to the Yule Ball?"

"I tried," Ron said. "But she turned me down! Says she's going with somebody, and these two—" he gestured to Ginny and Bethany, both of who were trying to compose themselves, "won't give me a real answer!"

"How about Bethany goes with you, and Ginny goes with Harry?" George suggested.

Ginny's face flushed. "I can't," she said, "I'm going with Neville."

"Who're you going with anyway?" Ron scowled at the twins.

"Fred's going with Angelina and I'm going with Alicia," George beamed proudly. Bethany suddenly felt as though she had been pierced by a dagger. "The two best looking girls in Gryffindor!" Merlin, now he was just rubbing salt into the wound. Bethany averted her gaze away, ignoring Ginny's concerned look.

"You'll figure it out," she heard Fred tell Ron. "See you later."

"What are we going to do, Harry?" Ron groaned into his hands. "We need dates!"

"Harry needs a date," Bethany pointed out, feeling more than a little sore at the moment. "You just want one."

Ron didn't seem to hear her. "It's so hard," he lamented, "all the good looking girls are already taken!"

"Gee, thanks."

"Well— Not you! But you're—"

"It's hard to imagine why Hermione would rather go with someone else," Bethany said dryly, getting ready to gather her things. She knew she was being overly sensitive, and realized if she wanted to preserve her recently revitalized friendship with Ron, she ought to leave while she had the chance.

"Bethany, wait!" Harry exclaimed. "What if— will you go with me? To the Yule Ball?"

Bethany's expression softened. Harry seemed so nervous— he needn't be. She grinned. "Sure!" This wouldn't be so bad— going with one of her best friends, especially the one who wasn't currently acting like a git.

"You're going with Harry?" Ron was gaping at her in disbelief.

"He asked nicely!" Bethany insisted. "Besides, I don't remember you asking me at all."

Bethany left, walking as quickly as she could to the Ravenclaw table. It was too early to go to class, and she didn't want to be the first one in the classroom. She let out an exasperated sigh as she sat down on the bench, burying her face in her hands.

"Is something the matter, Bethany?" She peeked through her fingers to Luna Lovegood, a third year sitting across from her. Luna, who was eccentric, even for a Ravenclaw, was wearing a necklace with various sets of keys attached to it. Bethany wondered if it served a practical purpose or if Luna was wearing it for aesthetic.

"I'm alright," she found herself reassuring the other girl. She had spoke to Luna only a few times before; some of the Ravenclaws were cruel to her, but Bethany thought Luna was a sweet girl.

"That's good to hear!" Luna beamed. "I was worried that you were being attacked by Wrackspurts. They make your mind go all fuzzy— it's very hard to concentrate."

Bethany, amused, smiled. "Thanks for warning me, Luna." Really, Luna wasn't bad company— an idea popped into her head. "Are you going to the Yule Ball?"

"No," Luna said, with a wistfulness about her. "Nobody has asked me. I'm not terribly surprised. Still, I am disappointed. I had hoped I would be able to go."

"Well, you might be in luck," Bethany grinned. Really, she was solving two problems in one time... "I have a friend that needs a date to the Yule Ball. Do you know Ron Weasley?"

"Oh, yes," Luna nodded. "He's Ginny Weasley's brother, isn't he? She's nice to me, even when the others aren't."

"Unfortunately, he's not always as nice as Ginny is— but he is a good friend. Would you want to go with him?"

"Certainly!" Luna seemed to be radiating happiness. It made Bethany's heart feel warm, to realize she was doing something nice for somebody else. "He won't mind?"

"I can't imagine why he would mind," Bethany said, grinning. She realized it wasn't fair to Luna really— and she was certain once Ron began talking to her, he would go spare— but Bethany figured if Ron became too unruly, Luna would have no qualms about ditching him. "He's has rotten luck finding a girl to go with him. He's getting a bit desperate, honestly, and it doesn't help that he isn't exactly great with the girls."

"This wonderful!" Luna seemed truly happy. "Will you please tell Ronald that I would be delighted to accompany him? I must owl Father and let him know I need a pair of dress robes sent from home!" The smiling girl ran off, presumably to the Owlery.

Before class, Bethany tracked the boys down, now in considerably higher spirits. When she informed Ron about what she had done, he gaped.

"A date?" Ron seemed gobsmacked. "Who?"

"Luna Lovegood. She's a lovely girl, and she is a third year, so she is pleased to have a chance to go to the Ball. So don't ruin it for her," Bethany said, poking him in the arm with a pointed finger.

"Lovegood? She's one of our neighbors!" Ron ran a hand through his hair. "Course, I don't know her very well..."

"She's nice. You two will have a great time. See you later!" Bethany called out, before rushing to the dungeons.

 


	19. Chapter 18: Severs Day From Night

**Momento Mori**

**Chapter Eighteen: Severs Day From Night**

"Ooh, Bethany, your robes are so pretty!" Mandy said, admiring the powder blue robes Bethany was wearing.

Bethany grinned, glancing at herself in the mirror. She had bought these robes with Narcissa in Diagon Alley— of course, at the time, Bethany hadn't known what they were for. She had tried in several pairs (most of them at Narcissa's suggestion), but found she liked this one the best. Truth be told, part of the reason she had chose them was because of their resemblance to the iconic dress Cinderella wore in the Disney movie, which she had watched countless times in her childhood.

"Thanks," she told the other girl. "I like your robes, too!" It wasn't a thoughtless compliment; Mandy looked lovely in her violet robes.

"Aw, thank you so much!" Mandy beamed, before walking into the bathroom.

Bethany ran her brush through her hair with frustration. Her brown locks were fine and thin, but somehow completely untamable. She had no idea what to do. Maybe she could pin it back? She reached for her two bobby pins (the only hair accessories she had to her name) and tried to pin it back, only succeeding in making her hair look like a rat had been living inside of it for three months. She let out a groan.

"Need help?" It was Padma, who was currently putting on a pair of earrings.

"Yes, please."

Padma grinned, taking the brush from the Bethany and smoothing her hair out. "How do you want it?"

"Honestly, I don't care," Bethany said nervously, as Padma began gathering her hair. "I just need it to look good."

"That can be arranged," Padma grinned. "You're going with Harry, right?"

"Yeah."

"That's so cute. I didn't know you two were together."

"We aren't," Bethany said hastily. The idea of her and Harry being a couple was as foreign and laughable to her as the idea of her dating Ron. Everything about it seemed... wrong. "He's just a friend."

"Oh!" Padma seemed surprised. "Um, do you want your hair in a French twist? I think that would look really nice."

"Uh, sure." Truthfully, Bethany didn't even know what a French twist was, but she trusted Padma's judgement. "Who are you going with?"

"Some boy from Beauxbatons," Padma said, grinning. "His name is Michel. His best friend is taking Parvati."

"That's cool," said Bethany honestly. She had to admit that she was surprised none of the boys from Hogwarts were taking the twins. Padma and Parvati were two of the prettiest girls in their year.

"Yeah, he seems really nice. I hope we get along. I don't know him very well, to be honest."

A silence passed over them as Padma stuck bobby pins into Bethany's hair, and muttered a few charms under her breath. "Alright, I think I'm done!" Padma said, "how does it look?"

Bethany beamed. "It looks great! Thank you so much!"

"I'm glad you like it!" Padma smiled. "Have fun with Harry!"

"I will! Thank you so much!" Now Bethany really felt like a Disney princess... unable to resist, she twirled around.

Bethany left the girls dorm, meeting up with Luna in the Common room. Luna was wearing a pair of yellow robes, and her hair hung loose. Her earrings resembled buttons, one of them red and the other purple. "Hi, Bethany. You look very nice."

"Thanks, Luna. You do, too. Come on, let's go find the boys."

Ron and Harry were waiting outside the Common Room; Ron dressed in those awful robes whereas Harry was in his bottle green. Ron looked absolutely miserable. "Hi!" Bethany said to them both, "This is Luna Lovegood— Luna, this is Ron and Harry."

"Hello! Those are some interesting robes— are they made of Fellifant skin?" Luna inquired Ron, inspecting the robes with a keen eye.

Ron's face went red. Merlin, Bethany had forgotten about those nightmarish robes. "Um, Ron... I know a couple of spells... if you want me to, I can fix it a little," Bethany said, wanting to be tactful.

Ron looked torn between cursing her or begging her to help him. "If... can you get rid of the stains?" He managed to choke out.

"Yes," said Bethany. "I can also try and change the color, if you'd like..."

"What are you waiting for?" Ron stretched his arms out. "Do it!"

* * *

"—a conspiracy, you see. Daddy says it's absolute madness," Luna said to Ron.

"That Luna girl... she's a bit odd, isn't she?" Harry whispered into Bethany's ear as they walked arm in arm down the steps.

"Yes," agreed Bethany. "Most Ravenclaws are."

Harry raised his eyebrows, but said nothing. They reached the bottom of the steps, where numerous others were milling about. Bethany scanned the crowds for any familiar people; she saw a red haired girl who may have been Ginny with her hair braided into a crown around her head.

"Oh, no!" Ron ducked behind Harry as Fleur Delacour walked past, arm in arm with Rodger. As always, the blonde girl looked stunning, and Bethany was well aware that every male in the vicinity was staring at her.

Once Fleur had passed by, Ron stood up to his full height, running a hand through his hair. "Where's Hermione?"

"I don't know. I haven't seen her yet," said Bethany, still scanning the crowds. She saw a group of fourth year Slytherins climbed up the stairs from the dungeons. Crabbe and Goyle towered over the rest of them, neither of them with dates. Pansy was wearing frilly pink robes— Bethany couldn't help but wrinkle her nose at it. And Draco has the audacity to mock the lace on Ron's robes.

Speaking of Draco, he was currently holding Pansy's arms. Bethany was pleased to see he was wearing the robes that she helped Narcissa pick for him; they were made of black velvet and were, in her opinion, very fine robes. They actually looked rather nice on him as well. Bethany couldn't help but think he looked like nobleman from a period drama.

Draco caught her eye and waved across the hall. Bethany waved back at him, surprised. Merlin, her stomach felt funny...

The giant oak doors opened, revealing the students from Durmstrang and their dates. Bethany beamed once she saw Hermione with Krum, leading the line. She looked radiant in her robes, and the smile on her face was one of unmistakable joy.

"Champions over here, please!" Professor McGonagall called out.

"Come on," Harry mumbled, dragging Bethany along. Suddenly, every muscle in her body seized up.

"What are we doing?" She whispered to him as they took a spot behind Viktor and Hermione.

"Champions and their partners have to do something together," Harry sounded miserable as he delivered the news to her.

Bethany's eyes widened. "What kind of something, Harry?" Her voice grew more and more shrill with each word.

"I don't really know, Professor McGonagall just told me I had to." His words, remarkably, did not bring her much comfort. Merlin, what if they had to dance on their own, in front of the whole school? Bethany considered herself to be a good at a couple of things, but dancing was not one of them.

Hermione turned around, beaming. "Hi, Harry! Hi, Bethany!"

"Hi!" Bethany said, allowing herself a moment of relative peace before her anxiety heightened once more. "You look great! What did you do with your hair?"

"Thanks! And I bought this hair product called Slick Eazy's, and it works rather nicely!"

Bethany would have continued chatting if it weren't for the fact the line of Champions had began moving. Bethany heard the applause growing louder and louder as her and Harry approached the Great Hall. Much to Bethany's relief, it seems they were just sitting in the front of the Great Hall together along with the judges.

Bethany glanced through the crowd, wearing a wide smile. This wasn't so bad... Draco was glowering at her now, apparently realizing Harry was her date. It seemed he hadn't noticed before. Oh, well. As if she cared if he approved of her date or not! Ron looked rather sulky as they passed by him, but he didn't seem to notice them. In fact, his gaze was fixed on Hermione, who remained oblivious.

As Bethany and Harry were the last two people to reach the table, there were only two spots left. Bethany was glad as she took the seat next to Hermione and Harry, whereas Harry opted for the seat beside Percy, who was there in place of Mr. Crouch, it seemed. "I've been promoted," Bethany heard him brag. "I'm now Mr. Crouch's personal assistant, and I am here representing him."

Bethany drank her pumpkin juice, scanning through the crowds at Hogwarts whilst Harry chattered away with Percy and Hermione talked with Krum. She saw Fred sitting with Angelina, and immediately turned her gaze away once she saw his arm was wrapped around her shoulder. Anger sparked within her and she forced herself to quash it. Still, it was hard not to react in some way. Her hands rested in her lap, nails digging into her palms.

After the meal was through, the Weird Sisters began playing a slow song. Krum and Hermione went to the dance floor, followed shortly after by Fleur and Rodger. "Are... Are we supposed to dance?" Bethany whispered to Harry, uneasily standing up.

"Er, I guess so," Harry said, looking as uncomfortable as Bethany felt. They walked arm in arm down to the dance floor. Bethany was beginning to regret not going with Ron— of course, he had been acting like an arse, but at least she wouldn't be the center of attention while she stumbled about acting like an idiot.

Bethany, mimicking everything she had seen from movies and television, placed a hand on Harry's shoulder and held his hand. When he tried to imitate her, she whispered, "I think you're supposed to hold onto my waist, Harry," she muttered to him, and he quickly fixed the issue.

To say their dancing was awkward was the understatement of the century. Neither one of them were particularly coordinated, least of all Bethany, so they swayed back and forth, both of them feeling as though they were dying inside. Much to Bethany's relief, after a minute or so, the other students joined them on the dance floor.

"Nice socks, Potter," Professor Moody told Harry as he danced past them. His magical eye was focused on Harry's feet.

"Oh— yeah, Dobby the house elf knitted them for me," Harry told him with a grin.

Bethany stared after the professor as he moved away. "Do you think there's something off about him?" Bethany said, loud enough for Harry to hear over the music.

"Not really," said Harry, and the song finally ended. "Do you want to go sit down?"

"Yes, please," Bethany said, relieved. Harry lead her through the crowd, and Bethany once again felt the familiar surge of jealousy as she passed by Fred and Angelina.

Ron and Luna were sitting down at the table, neither of them speaking. Luna was wearing her usual dreamy smile, while Ron was sipping at a bottle of Butterbeer, sullen expression not wavering.

"How's it going?" Harry asked, opening up his own bottle after handing one to Bethany.

Ron said nothing, merely glaring at the dance floor. Bethany found she couldn't blame him. She was struggling with her own feeling of inadequacy and envy tonight. Even though it would have been easy to blame Angelina for her woes and insist she had too many flaws to be good enough for Fred, Bethany knew that it wasn't right to pin her insecurities into a perfectly nice girl.

"If you don't mind, Ronald, I'm going to go dance. I'm not having much fun just sitting over here," Luna said, breaking the moping trio from their respective reveries. She left the three of them, hopping and skipping as she joined the others on the dance floor.

"What did she mean by that?" Ron scowled.

"You can't blame her, Ron," Bethany said, taking a swig of her Butterbeer. "We're just sitting and sulking because none of us got to go with the person we wanted. We're hardly a lively bunch." Harry said nothing, moping as he watched Cedric twirl Cho Chang.

"Who'd you want to go with, then?" Ron said, taking a sudden interest in what she had said.

"It doesn't matter," Bethany brought the Butterbeer to her lips once more, hoping he wouldn't pry. It wasn't that she didn't trust him, but to talk to a male friend about how fancied his brother would be on a level of awkward that she was not prepared to face.

After the song ended, Hermione gravitated to Luna's empty spot beside Ron. "Hi, Hermione," Bethany said, smiling at her friend. At least one of them was having fun tonight.

"Hi! It's hot, isn't it?" Hermione fanned herself with her hands. "Viktor has just gone to get us some drinks."

Ron, acknowledging Hermione for the first time since she had arrived, glared at her. "Viktor? Hasn't he asked you to call him _Vicky_ yet?"

Bethany saw Harry's eyes widen like her own. Oh no, this was going to go badly... "What's up with you?" Hermione was shocked.

"If you don't know, then I'm not going to tell you." Ron crossed his arms over his chest, sullenly avoiding Hermione's gaze.

Hermione glanced over to Harry and Bethany, who were both flabbergasted and highly uncomfortable. "Ron, what—"

"He's from Durmstrang!" Ron spat suddenly. "He's competing against Harry! Against Hogwarts! You— you're—" Ron sputtered, trying to come up with a word compelling enough to voice his distaste, "fraternizing with the enemy, that's what you're doing!"

Hermione's jaw dropped. "Don't be stupid! The enemy! Honestly— who was the one who was all excited when they saw him arrive? Who was the one who wanted his autograph? Who's got a model of him up in their dormitory?"

Bethany began glancing around, trying to find a way to exit this situation before it escalated even further, but to no avail. "I s'pose he asked you to come with him while you were both in the library?" Bethany heard Ron say, ignoring Hermione's previous comments.

"Yes, he did! So what?"

"What happened— trying to get him to join spew, were you?"

"No, I wasn't— If you really must know, he told me he'd been coming up to the library every day to try and talk to me, but he hadn't been able to pluck up the courage! He even asked Bethany for help— isn't that right, Bethany?"

Ron and Harry gave Bethany incredulous looks. In that moment, she very much wanted a hole in the ground to swallow her up so that she could escape— why had Hermione dragged her into this? But when she realized Ron and Harry weren't going to stop gaping at her until she provided some sort of confirmation, Bethany nodded uneasily. "See?" Hermione said, victorious.

"Yeah, well, that's his story."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Hermione's face had gone pink.

"Obvious, isn't it?" said Ron. "He's Karkaroff's student, isn't he? He knows who you hang around with... He's just trying to get closer to Harry— get inside information on him— or get near enough to jinx him—"

Hermione, who looked very wounded, said, "For your information, he hasn't asked me one single thing about Harry, not one—"

"Then he's hoping you'll help him find out what his egg means! I suppose you've been putting your heads together during those cozy little library sessions—"

"I'd never help him work out that egg!" Hermione interrupted. She looked furious, her eyes narrowed and face screwed up into an expression of undiluted anger. "Never! How could you say something like that— I want Harry to win the tournament. Harry knows that, don't you, Harry?"

"You have a funny way of showing it."

"This whole tournament's supposed to be about getting to know foreign wizards and making friends with them!" Hermione shouted, drawing looks from people nearby. Bethany felt her face heating up with embarrassment, but remained glued to her seat.

"No, it isn't" Ron yelled back, attracting even more attention than before. "It's about winning!"

"Ron," Harry said, finally trying to alleviate the situation, "I haven't got a problem with Hermione coming with Krum—"

But Ron was past the point of listening to reason or his best friend. "Why don't you go and find Vicky, he'll be wondering where you are!" He sneered.

"Don't call him Vicky!" Hermione all but screamed. She gathered up the skirts of her robes, stalking off to the dance floor once more. She looked as if she were close to the point of tears.

"I'm going to go get some drinks," Bethany found herself saying, desperately trying to escape the stifling awkwardness following the fight. She didn't need Ron taking out any more unvoiced hostilities onto her, which she was sure he would try and do once he remembered Bethany had helped Krum ask Hermione to dance.

Bethany walked past Krum as she made her way over to the drinks table. Her bottle of Butterbeer was not yet gone, but Bethany reaches for a cup and filled it up with pumpkin juice. God, this night was a disaster.

"You didn't tell me you were coming with Potter." Bethany jumped. Merlin, she hated it when people did that! Even though she knew it was Draco, she scowled before she turned around to face him.

"Just like how you neglected to mention you came here with Pansy," Bethany fired back, draining her cup.

"It was a last minute decision." He was leaned against the wall, glass in hand and staring out at the dance floor with detachment. He didn't even seem upset, like he had earlier. Bethany wondered if the person he wanted to come with was on the dance floor with someone else as well.

"Mine was too."

"So what was that fight about?" Draco asked as Bethany joined him by the wall. Bethany didn't know how he could stand it— the stone against her back was cold. "Granger won't do his homework for him any longer?"

"No. He's got it in his head that Viktor Krum is trying to use Hermione so he can beat Harry in the Tournament."

"He's jealous, then?"

"...yeah," said Bethany, hoping that her staying the obvious wouldn't be adding to a list of taunts used against her friends. "Of course, he'll never admit to it. I don't think he's even admitted it to himself yet."

"It'd be fitting, wouldn't it?" Draco grinned, glancing over to her. "I'm sure his father would be thrilled to have a Mud— Muggleborn in the family. Pestering the in-laws about how all that rubbish works."

"Muggle inventions aren't rubbish," said Bethany, glaring at him through narrow eyes. "Nice save, by the way. You know, I can leave you here on your lonesome and get back to the boys if you'd like—"

"No, don't," Draco reached out, grabbing onto her shoulder as she began walking away. "I— It's been an awful night, hasn't it?"

"I won't disagree with you there," Bethany said, smiling in spite of her terrible mood.

They sat in silence with one another, enjoying that there was no obligation to keep the conversation going or to hide how they felt. "You look nice, by the way," Draco said, looking at her out of the corner of his eye.

"Thanks," Bethany said, feeling her cheeks grow warm. The strange feeling in her stomach had returned. "Uh, you look nice, too."

The sat in silence again, eyes falling to the dance floor. Hermione was hanging on the outskirts with Krum, looking as though she were in higher spirits. Neville and Ginny were twirling around, Neville occasionally stepping on Ginny's feet. Bethany saw a flash of red hair and braced herself for the worst, but was relieved when she saw it was George and Alicia.

"So where is Pansy?" Bethany asked Draco, wondering how he managed to end up on his lonesome.

He shrugged. "Beats me. Some fifth year asked her to dance with him."

Huh. Good for Pansy, she supposed. Maybe she would stop clinging to Draco and actually find somebody interested in her. Hopefully that would mean she would occupy her time with her new boyfriend instead of being a spiteful menace.

"Looks like your date is leaving," Draco said, pointing across the room. Bethany glanced over and saw Harry and Ron, leaving the Great Hall.

Great. The cherry on top of a wonderful evening. Now all her friends were gone, save for the one currently beside her. "Oh well," she said with a sigh. She supposed she would spend the rest of the evening over here with Draco commiserating over their respective woes until she grew tired and went to bed.

Draco looked out to dance floor again, and Bethany tried to follow his gaze. She wondered which girl he liked. Probably a Slytherin, she figured, but it wasn't Pansy. To be perfectly honest, she didn't know the Slytherin girls in their year very well. There was Daphne Greengrass, of course... she was very pretty, maybe Draco liked her. Bethany doubted he fancied Millicent Bullstrode, as she seemed like a female Crabbe.

Somehow, leaning against the wall turned into sitting against the wall. It was surreal sensation; watching as her classmates had the times of their lives while she couldn't muster up an ounce of enthusiasm. She wished she could join in, but to do so would feel artificial. She wondered if Draco felt the same emptiness inside that she was.

It felt as though hours had passed when Bethany finally stood up. "I think I'm going to leave," she said, brushing off her robes.

Draco frowned. "Already?"

"Yeah. Tonight hasn't been the best, to be honest. I think I'll just go to bed... maybe read..."

"You can't leave me here!" Draco stared indignantly.

"Nothing is stopping you from leaving!"

"Pansy is!" Draco ran a hand through his hair. "It's almost done, anyway. Just wait around a little while longer."

Bethany looked down at him before letting out a sigh. "Fine. But if I'm going to mope around with you, we're going to sit on proper chairs and I'm going to need more Butterbeer."

"Fine by me," said Draco, who stood up and reached over, picking up two bottles for both of them. They wandered over to the seats left vacant by Ron and Harry.

"So why aren't you here with the girl you fancy?" Bethany asked, opening up her bottle.

"Already had a date before I could even think about asking her," Draco said miserably. "And you?"

"The same," Bethany responded. "That, and I never would have asked him."

"Why not?" Draco seemed surprised.

"Because I'm scared of rejection."

Bethany wondered if he would challenge her, just as Fred had two years previous, but Draco merely said, "Fair enough," and raised the bottle to his lips.

A minute or so of silence passed between them once more, but it was shattered when Bethany's saw something fluffy and pink moving towards them. "Draco, is that—"

"Oh, _f—_ "

"There you are!" Pansy sounded triumphant. Daphne Greengrass trailed behind her wearing robes of gold, dragging Blaise Zabini along. Bethany has to admit, as arrogant as he seemed, he was rather handsome. "I have been looking everywhere for you!"

"Have you really?" Draco's tone was acidic. "Thought you and Mulciber were having a good time together."

"I only danced with him because _you_ didn't want to dance with me!" Pansy snapped. "What is _she_ doing here, anyway?"

"All fourth years were allowed to attend the dance, Pansy," Bethany spoke up, feeling more confident for once. It was rare that she made confrontations, but this, she felt, was worthy of an exception. Perhaps it was the Butterbeer talking. "And in case you failed to notice, I was the date of one of the Triwizard Champions."

Pansy's dark eyes narrowed. "I don't remember asking you!"

"Oh, don't worry, you didn't." The words were leaving her mouth before she even thought them through. "It's just— well, it's generally rude to talk about someone as if they aren't even there."

"You're one to talk! You insulted _me_ in the middle of Herbology second year!"

"I'm sorry that you were so offended by facts," Bethany delivered her response in a deadpan, earning a gasp from Daphne and a stifled laugh from Blaise Zabini. Draco, on the other hand, looked as if he wanted to be anywhere but there.

Pansy glanced over to Draco, who was displaying no emotion. "Look, are you going to dance with me or not?" She sounded desperate. "Because I'm not going to hang around here while that— that _thing_ threatens me."

"No," said Draco, scowling at her.

Before Bethany could say anything else, Pansy had scrambled away, leaving Blaise and Daphne to trail after her. Merlin, how did Draco find any redeeming qualities in that ridiculous, cruel girl? "Why did you even bother coming with her?" She asked aloud.

"Because the person I wanted to take already had a date," Draco said, sounding miserable. His voice was muffled as he rubbed at his face with both hands.

"I know that," Bethany rolled her eyes. "We already discussed this. But why would you take her? You didn't even want to dance with her!"

"It would have been pathetic to show up without a date," Draco crossed his arms over his chest.

"Like Crabbe and Goyle?" Bethany asked, wondering if Draco realized he was insulting two people he considered to be his best friends.

"Exactly!"

She held back an exasperated sigh. "You ought to be nicer to them." At this point, it felt like futile task to continually remind him.

"I'll do whatever I please with my own friends," he replied with venom in his voice and a scowl.

"No need to take it so personally."

"Well, tonight hasn't gone so well for me, if you haven't noticed."

"Mine hasn't either, but I'm not taking it out on you!"

Draco, whose body had grown tense with the rising contention between them, relaxed his muscles. His bravado seemed to fade as his shoulders slumped. He stared down at his lap and mumbled something. "What?" Bethany asked.

"I said I was sorry!" Draco exclaimed, articulating his words now. His eyes were directed at his knees.

Bethany felt herself soften. It was rare that Draco to actually apologize. Usually, whenever they had a disagreement, it was brushed off and the topic was scarcely spoken of ever again. Nevertheless, it was gratifying to hear him say those two simple words. "It's alright," she said lightly. "We all get into moods sometimes. And I think I may have had too much Butterbeer." She grinned at him.

"I agree," said Draco, taking the bottle away from her, ignoring her protests and taking a sip for himself. "And _I_ haven't had nearly enough."

"Jerk," Bethany said without malice, smiling.

Draco didn't response, only smirking as he drained the bottle. Bethany looked away from him, inspecting the dance floor once more. Many couples had vacated; leaving twenty or so people out there. Ginny, much to Bethany's surprise, was dancing with Michael Corner. She resisted the urge to groan. Ginny could do so, _so_ much better than that arrogant imbecile. However, the sight of Luna Lovegood dancing with Neville Longbottom banished away her negative thoughts. She was glad that Luna was getting an enjoyable evening out of this.

No matter how hard she searched, Bethany couldn't spot Hermione and Viktor. Where could they have gone? She surmised that it was possible they had gone for a walk. It was probably hard to get to know somebody, given how loud the music was.

The Weird Sisters finished their song, and the students clapped and cheered to voice their approval. "Now," the lead singer said, his voice sounding hoarse, "We're going to play a couple Christmas classics for you to finish up the night— it is the Yule Ball, after all!" This prompted a loud response from the crowd. "And these will be some slow numbers, so grab your sweetheart and pull them onto the dance floor!"

"He's going to destroy his voice if he keeps singing!" Bethany said disapprovingly. "Merlin, someone needs to bring that man a glass of water—"

"Do you want to dance?"

"What?" Bethany wasn't sure if she had heard him correctly. Surely, he couldn't be...

"I said, do you want to dance?"

"Um... I don't know how to dance very well," Bethany admitted, biting nervously on her bottom lip.

"I noticed," he said. "You and Potter weren't exactly professionals out there."

Bethany felt her face flush. "Besides, it doesn't matter," Draco continued, "because I _do_ know how to dance. Come on," he said, standing up.

Nervously, Bethany followed him. Merlin, she was going to be an absolute disaster. The lead singer (much to her relief) had allowed the rest of the band to take over, playing an instrumental version of _We Three Kings._ "Finally," Bethany beamed, "a song I actually know!"

Draco's eyes widened. "Is this a Muggle song, too?"

"Yeah," she said, placing her hand on his bony shoulder. "You hear it a lot on the radio. Of course, there are loads of other songs they play, too. My favorite is _Jingle Bell Rock_."

"I've never heard of that before in my life. It sounds ridiculous," Draco said incredulously. "You're making that up."

"You've hardly consumed any Muggle media, it shouldn't be surprising that you don't know much about their culture," Bethany said, almost exasperated. To be honest, she had hoped this night wouldn't culminate in a verbal battle over their marked differences in the status of Muggles, but by the way this conversation was going, it seemed inevitable. "There is a whole world you haven't explored yet."

"And I don't intend to," said Draco, suddenly spinning her around. The lights within the hall became a multicolored blur until he stopped her. She felt dizzy.

"Your loss," she said breathlessly, before accidentally stepping on his toe. "Sorry! That wasn't intentional, I swear."

"You really don't know how to dance, do you?"

"Well, I'm sorry, but it isn't as if I could afford dance lessons at age five," Bethany huffed, stepping backwards.

"I wasn't five," Draco insisted, twirling her around more gently this time. "I was seven."

"Pardon me, how could I have made such a grievous error?" Bethany said dramatically, earning a smile from him.

It was strange, Bethany thought. Had you told her as a first year that she would be dancing at the Yule Ball with Draco Malfoy of all people, she would have thought they were mad. But Draco had grown to be one of closest friends, in spite of their many differences.

Bethany looked up at him (Merlin, she swore he kept getting taller and taller), noticing his eyes were latched on something behind her. But she was resolved to look at him, and nobody else. What if Fred and Angelina came past them? She didn't need to feel anymore envy this evening—especially not when she have fun for the first time.

Draco, looking down at her, frowned. "Why're you looking at me like that?" His eyes narrowed, and for the first time Bethany noticed how light his eyelashes were.

"I... I was just thinking about...how glad I am. That we're friends," she clarified. It was only a half truth, but he didn't need to know about the crisis plaguing her nonexistent love life.

"God, you're a sap," Draco said, but Bethany could tell he was teasing her. Why on Earth was it so hard for boys express how they were really feeling? Bethany stuck her tongue out at him before they both started laughing.

The Weird Sisters ended their song, hardly pausing before they started _God Rest Ye Merry Gentleman._ "Oh, good, I know this one, too!"

Draco's brow furrowed. "You've heard _God Rest Ye Merry Hippogriff_?"

"You're joking," Bethany said in disbelief. "That's not the name."

"Of course it is! Why would I make that up?"

"It's called something else in the Muggle world," she explained before she accidentally stepped on his foot yet again. "Oops! I'm sorry!"

"I'm going to see that Mother makes you take dance lessons this summer," Draco said, smirking. "I don't think I can deal with you stepping on my feet like this ever again."

Bethany merely grinned, but her mind was generating questions instantaneously. She wondered when they would ever have a chance to dance like this ever again. Maybe at a wedding? But she could hardly imagine them ever being invited to the same wedding, unless they went to each other's. Still, it seemed unlikely. They would have to dance with their respective spouses, after all.

Bethany decided to savor this moment, as she figured she would never live it again. It would be a snapshot of their friendship. She closed her eyes, listening to rising crescendo on the music. She felt the velvet from his dress robes beneath her fingers, and the warmth radiating from his own hands. It seemed such a juxtaposition from the coldness he was associated with. She could smell his cologne— she had no idea what it was called, but she knew it came in a clear bottle with gold print. She opened her eyes, staring into his own. Had they always been grey? How had she never noticed this before?

She was suddenly hyper aware of his hand at her waist. Every so often, his fingers twitched, tightening for the briefest of seconds before relaxing. Her mouth felt dry. _What's wrong with you?_ A voice in her mind asked. _It's only Draco._ But even at her insistence, she felt her heart rate spike when his eyes met hers for a second or two before he concentrated on something or somebody else.

 _It's the Butterbeer,_ she told herself, and she let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. _He's your friend._

Unbeknownst to them, at the edge of Great Hall stood Pansy Parkinson, glaring daggers and Bethany as she whispered fiercely into her hand.

 


	20. Chapter Nineteen: No Darkness But Ignorance

**Momento Mori**

**Chapter Nineteen: No Darkness But Ignorance**

Much to Bethany's relief, Hermione and Ron's friendship remained intact after the events of the Yule Ball. When Bethany joined her Gryffindor friends in the library, she noticed that they were both making an effort to unnervingly polite towards one another. "Thank you, Ronald," said Hermione as he passed her a book. Bethany looked to Harry, who miraculously seemed unfazed by this.

"No problem," said Ron, reaching back and rubbing his neck. "Do you, erm, need anything else?"

"That should be fine, thank you."

 _What the hell?_ Was something wrong with them? They had never been like this before! "So," said Bethany, choosing not to voice the questions filling her mind, reached for a book titled _Mystical Charms for Magical Creatures_ by Ceres O'Dinnean, "How was the rest of the Yule Ball for you three? I didn't get a chance to see you again."

Hermione's face suddenly flushed, and Bethany had a feeling she would find out later, once the boys were gone— or, namely, Ron. Harry also seemed embarrassed, burying his face in his own book, but Ron was eagerly ready to share. "Well, Harry and I went for a walk after you left, and you'll never guess what we found out!"

"I'm sure I won't. Care to tell me?"

Ron craned his head, making sure nobody was listening in before leaning across the table to whisper, "Hagrid's a half giant!"

Bethany, who had read about giants during her skimming of _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them,_ felt her jaw drop. "What?"

"He's a half giant! We overheard him telling Madame Maxime!"

"She's one, too," Harry added, speaking up for the first time since she had arrived. "No matter what she says."

"Well, I thought he must be. I knew he couldn't be pure giant because they're about twenty feet tall. But honestly, all this hysteria about giants. They can't all be horrible... It's the same sort of prejudice that people have toward werewolves... It's just bigotry, isn't it?" Hermione mused aloud.

Bethany's brow furrowed. "But how is that physiologically possible? How can— it can't possibly work? There's no way a human and giant could conceive a child!"

Hermione's eyes widened, and Harry's book fell out of his hands onto the floor. Ron's pale face had gone green. "Merlin, Beth, why would think of that?" He demanded.

"I'm trying not to, but it doesn't seem possible!" Bethany said, setting her book down on the table. She had always assumed Hagrid had some sort of genetic disorder that made him larger than most people, but a half giant? It defied the laws of science!

"Is it common in the wizarding world, for two species to— erm, procreate?" Hermione asked, flustered.

Ron shook his head. "I've heard of a couple half vampires and some half werewolves but it's really rare. It's dangerous, you know."

Bethany frowned. "What do you mean? Professor Lupin was perfectly fine, most days of the month. He's so kind too, he's make a fantastic father to a child."

"Most werewolves aren't like Lupin, though," Ron pointed out. "There was this one, Fenrir Greyback— He'd attack children, even when it wasn't the full moon. He did a— a lot of other awful things, too." At this, Bethany shuddered.

"Half veelas exist, too," Harry piped up, steering the conversation away from the dark direction it had taken. "Fleur Delacour said her grandmother was one."

Bethany's eyes widened. So... that explained quite a lot. Ron and Rodger had not been the only victims of her inhuman beauty, as she had observed. It seemed as every man she had encountered (as well as even a couple female students) had left star struck by her.

The four of them continued researching, scratching down notes for Harry to look over later. When Ron finished scanning through his book, he picked up _Enchanting Herbs and Remedies_ , opening it up only to suddenly slam it shut. "Merlin!" Harry exclaimed, causing Madame Pince to shush them. "What's in that book?"

"Neville!"

"Neville's in the book?"

"No! _Neville_! He's got a girlfriend!"

Harry seemed annoyed, unsurprised. Bethany and Hermione, however, were intrigued. "Who is it?" Bethany asked, leaning forward.

"That girl you set me up with for the Yule Ball! Luna Lovegood!" Ron seemed to be brimming with excitement to tell them.

Bethany smiled. "I saw them dancing together last night, after Ginny started dancing with Michael Corner." At this, Harry looked up from his book with a frown, while Ron scowled. "Good for them! Luna's a sweet girl, but she doesn't have many friends."

"Hard to see why," mumbled Ron, earning a sharp glare from Bethany. "Only kidding," he added hastily. "But you have to admit, she's odd."

"Almost all Ravenclaws are odd," countered Bethany, flicking the pages of her book. "In fact, it's odd if a Ravenclaw isn't odd in some way or another."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked Ron, closing her own book momentarily.

"She kept talking to me about Wrackspurts," said Ron.

"What on Earth are those? I've never heard of them before in my life!"

"Tiny, invisible creatures that make your brain go all fuzzy," Ron told her, smirking. He seemed to be struggling not to laugh. "She said that Harry had some messing with him when he was looking at Cho."

"Hey!" Harry exclaimed, which earned a laugh from the remaining three and another warning from Madame Pince.

"Well, I don't think they exist," said Hermione, bristling. "It sounds like a lot of nonsense to me."

While Bethany privately agreed with Hermione's conclusion, it always irritated her when her friends refused to look at things with a more open mind. "Perhaps," said Bethany, flipping through the book. "I'm glad she's found Neville, though. I think they'll be a cute couple."

"He's already mad about her," commented Harry, raking his hands through his messy dark hair. "He told me all about all the places he wants to take her to in Hogsmeade during the next visit."

"I'm just shocked," Ron said, before Bethany could express how adorable she found Neville's devotion. "I never thought Neville'd be the first one out of us guys in Gryffindor to get a girlfriend."

"That's not nice, Ron," Hermione said shrewdly, pressing her lips together. "Neville's a very kind boy."

"Exactly," Bethany agreed. "He's sweet, and it sounds like he's got a romantic side to him. That's never a bad quality."

"I wasn't insulting him!" Ron sputtered. "I just— well, I thought Harry would. Boy Who Lived and all," he said. "After all, you saw how many girls asked him to the Ball! And the only reason Cho didn't go with him was because Diggory asked her first!"

Bethany nodded. "Fair enough." Harry was, whether he realized it or not, rather popular. In was unfair, in Bethany's opinion, that it stemmed only from his fame. Very few people knew Harry the way his friends did and knew how kind and selfless he was. All anybody saw was the boy who had vanquished the Dark Lord.

The conversation seemed to have reached its conclusion, but was restarted when Harry asked, "So... is Ginny dating Michael now?"

Bethany and Hermione exchanged a glance. "I don't know," said Hermione, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, choosing her words carefully. "I haven't talked to her since last night, and she was still dancing with Neville then."

"She better not be," Ron frowned. "She's too young!"

Bethany rolled her eyes. "She's thirteen. She's old enough to have a boyfriend."

"I think she could do better," said Harry, looking down at his book. "He seems like a git."

Bethany and Hermione looked at one another once more, trying to contain their excitement. "He is," said Bethany, "At least I think so. Don't worry, though. I'm sure that sooner or later she'll be dating someone worthier of her affections."

"She shouldn't be dating anybody!" Ron burst out. "I'm telling you, she's too young!"

This prompted Madame Pince to beeline to their table, her thin lips pursed in a frown as she marched towards them. "Out! I have had enough disruptions from you two!" She hissed, glaring at Harry and Ron. "Go on! Leave!"

Harry and Ron rose to their feet, and Bethany and Hermione did the same. "Bethany and I will check out these books and meet you in the Common Room, alright?" Hermione told the boys, who had already slung their bags over their shoulders.

"Alright," said Harry, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Come on, Ron."

The boys left, leaving Bethany and Hermione to gather up the thick tomes so that they could check them out. "So," said Bethany, "did you have a good time with Viktor last night?"

Hermione's eyes fell to her feet as a small smile creeped across her face. "Yes," she admitted, promoting a squeal from Bethany, earning a glare from Madame Pince. The girls were silent as she stamped each book, and they did not resume conversation until they reached the hallway.

"What happened?"

"Well, we danced," said Hermione, bringing the books closer to her chest, "and we talked a lot— he's actually quite sweet, once you get to know him. I think he's just shy, and that's why he comes across as being unfriendly at times. He just isn't the most talkative person."

Bethany nodded, already suspecting this. "And?"

"And... we went for a walk around the hallways— and we kissed," Hermione said the last part so quickly that it took Bethany a minute to process what she had said.

Her eyes widened. The first emotion she felt was surprise. Hermione, kissing Viktor Krum? It was very exciting and all but... what about Ron? Did she even like him like that anymore? But instead, she asked, "What was it like?"

Hermione seemed to be lost in another world as she replied. "Very nice." She stopped walking suddenly. "But you can't tell the boys about this! Especially not Ron..."

"I wouldn't dream of it," vowed Bethany. "Come on, let's go."

* * *

The first day of the new term began with the Ravenclaws in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Bethany's stomach was turning as Professor Moody described terrible, gruesome curses, scratching out their names with an enchanted piece of chalk. Mercifully, he was not showing the effects that such curses had; Bethany doubted she could watch him harming some poor insect for the sake of teaching them the dangers of Dark Magic.

Bethany began her solo trek to Hagrid's hut (she was the only Ravenclaw in their year that had chosen to take Care of Magical Creatures; the other Ravenclaws had opted for other extracurriculars), shuddering when the icy blast of wind hit her. Her gloved hands reached up to pull her thick, woolen hat over her ears. The gloves were thin, useless things that served no other purpose than making her look elegant. It had been a Christmas gift from Lucius and Narcissa, and she was of the opinion that the pale pink gloves were pretty enough to sacrifice warmth.

By the time Bethany had made it, the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs were already there, huddled close together. Bethany squeezed through the crowd, standing beside Harry. "Hey," she greeted them. Hagrid was in the paddock, wrangling the Blast Ended Skrewts. Bethany couldn't say that she was exactly pleased to see them; they were squat creature with a taste for blood.

"Lovely day, isn't it?" Harry said, his breath misting in the air.

Before any of them could respond, the growing sound of murmurs and laughing drew attention to the fact that the Slytherins had arrived. Bethany turned around, resisting the urge to giggle as Theodore Nott tried to throw a snowball at Blaise Zabini, only to miss and hit Draco in the shoulder. She quickly drew her glance away; she blushed whenever she thought of the unusual thoughts that had invaded her mind at the Ball. It had been silly stuff, really.

"Riddle!" Bethany hadn't even noticed that Pansy Parkinson was walking towards her, hands clutching a glossy magazine. "Just the person I wanted to see!"

Bethany felt Harry's arm rest on her shoulder and mentally thanked him. "Why?" She said, racking her mind quickly for some kind of witty retort. "You're the last person I would want to see."

Ron let out a laugh, and Bethany heard Harry chuckle beside her. It wasn't nearly as funny as they made it seem, in her opinion, but she adored them all the more for supporting her.

Unlike any other time, however, Pansy ignored the jab, smiling instead. She was wearing bright red lipstick, Bethany noticed; a new addition apparently. "I received this today," Pansy said, holding up the magazine as if it were on display. She could now see that it was _Witch Weekly._ "It's a special edition copy, you know— and I thought, seeing as you looked like an absolute _wreck_ at the Yule Ball, you would find more use out of this than I."

At that moment, a myriad of acceptable responses to this entered her mind. There was, of course, the scathing _My robes didn't make me look like Cruella de Vil to Puffskeins,_ but she wouldn't understand the reference to Muggle media... or she could say _Funny, that's not what Draco thought,_ but she ultimately decided there was too much room for innuendo and misinterpretation, and besides, that was silly, her and Draco would never—

"Bethany looks a good sight better than you do any day of the week," Ron snapped.

"It's sweet that you're defending you're girlfriend, even though she danced with two different boys at the Yule Ball," said Pansy, grinning menacingly.

"She could have danced with everybody in the Great Hall that night and I wouldn't have given a rat's—"

"A'right, everybody!" Hagrid's booming voice attracted the attention of the rest of the class.

Pansy rolled her eyes, as if she couldn't believe that Hagrid had the nerve to interrupt her to teach his class. "Whatever. Take it, Riddle." The magazine was shoved into Bethany's hands, and Pansy pushed her way to stand beside Daphne Greengrass.

Bethany looked down at the magazine with distaste. It wasn't that she had any issues with the publication itself— in fact, she usually scanned through Narcissa's copies at home— but it was more of the fact that it had been given to her by Pansy. Nevertheless, she shoved it inside her bag, not feeling sorry when she felt the pages bending and crumpling.

The lesson was of the usual for Hagrid, and with it ensued its regular chaos. The skrewts ran amuck, shooting fire at anyone they deemed a threat. Bethany had nearly tripped and fallen into a snowbank to avoid being burnt, had it not been for Draco grabbing ahold of her hand and pulling her to her feet. "Are you alright?" He asked.

"Yeah, thanks," she said, her heart pounding inside her chest. She looked up, noticing that a snowflake had settled on his pale eyelashes. Of course, she couldn't dwell on this long as a skrewt ran towards them, hissing.

Once class had ended, Bethany rejoined her friends as they eagerly headed back to the castle for lunch. "Aren't you going to read that magazine?" Hermione asked her.

"Why should she?" Harry questioned. "Pansy was only trying to get a rise out of her—"

Before he could finish, she interjected, "She wouldn't have bothered giving it to Bethany if there weren't a reason. Otherwise, she would have left it at insulting her. Knowing Pansy, there's probably something nasty in there she is hoping Bethany will find."

While Hermione's logic was as sound as ever, Bethany doubted there would be anything inside a copy of _Witch Weekly_ that would seriously upset her— well, apart from the occasional sexist articles that reduced women to nothing but objects. "Fine," said Bethany, fishing the now bent magazine out of her bag. "I'll scan through it."

The crowd in front of the Great Hall was a large one, meaning that it was taking ages for the students to filter inside. Bethany opened to the table of contents, scanning through the titles of the articles. " _Easy Hairstyling Tips from Beauty Guru Janice Flemming, Society Pages, Ten Sex Tips That Will Blow His Mind—_ " Bethany looked up, making a face as she felt her face grow warm.

"Don't be childish," said Hermione, even though her cheeks had flushed. "What do the rest say?"

" _How To Make Your New Years Resolutions Come True, Self Esteem in Young Witches, An Exclusive Article From Rita Skeeter—_ oh no."

Her friends surrounded her, crowding over her shoulder. "What page is it on?" Hermione asked, voice quiet.

"45," said Bethany, shoving the magazine into Ron's hands, growing more and more hysterical by the minute. "Oh, God, I don't think I can read it! You do it!"

Ron didn't respond with a joke, instead clearing his throat while he flipped through the pages. A growing sense of dread filled her. "We're in for a treat," said Ron, letting out a sigh. "It's called _Harry Potter's Public Heartbreak._ "

"Wonderful," Harry muttered.

_A boy like no other, perhaps — yet a boy suffering all the usual pangs of adolescence, writes Rita Skeeter. Deprived of love since the tragic demise of his parents, fourteen year old Harry Potter thought that he had found solace in his steady girlfriend at Hogwarts, Muggle-born Hermione Granger. Little did he know that he would shortly be suffering yet another emotional blow in a life already littered with personal loss._

_Miss Granger, a plain but ambitious girl, seems to have a taste for famous wizards that Harry alone cannot satisfy. Since the arrival at Hogwarts of Viktor Krum, Bulgarian Seeker and hero of the last Quidditch World Cup, Miss Granger has been toying with both boys' affections. Krum, is openly smitten with the devious Miss Granger, took her to Yule Ball, sending a clear message to Potter of his girlfriend's shocking infidelity._

_To make matters even worse, Harry Potter was reported to have taken Bethany Riddle to the Yule Ball, a strategic move many believe was to make the deceitful Miss Granger jealous. Miss Riddle is a young witch hailing from Ravenclaw, has been one of Harry Potter's constant companions ever since he arrived to Hogwarts. Up until very recently, she was involved in a turbulent love affair with Ron Weasley, Harry Potter's best friend. However, there is more to Miss Riddle than what meets the eye. She harbors a very dark secret, according to numerous sources. Several students at Hogwarts have confirmed that Miss Riddle is the alleged daughter of You-Know-Who, the terrifying dark wizard who cursed Harry Potter with his iconic lightening bolt scar. Is Miss Riddle seducing Mr. Potter so that she can fulfill her father's work?_

" _She isn't even good looking," says Pansy Parkinson, a pretty and vivacious fourth year student, "Anybody will tell you she fancies herself good at Potions. I suspect she is drugging him with a Love Potion."_

_Love Potions are, of course, banned at Hogwarts, and no doubt Albus Dumbledore will want to investigate these claims. However, one must question his leadership and wonder why he would allow such a dangerous, violent girl into Hogwarts in the first place._

" _She's threatened me before," Miss Parkinson told Rita Skeeter exclusively. "And in second year, she began screaming at me in the middle of class before physically attacking me. She even ripped out some of my hair."_

_No investigations into the school records were able to uncover any more on the history of the disturbed Miss Riddle save for being caught out of bed as a first year, the incident named by Miss Parkinson, and an unnamed violation of school rules at the end of her second year. In the meantime, Harry Potter's well-wishers must hope that, next time, he bestows his heart on worthier candidates— and shuns the forces of evil from his life before they lead him down a path of destruction._

A silence fell over all four of them. Ron lowered the magazine, ashen faced. Hermione and Harry's eyes were trained on Bethany, holding their breath. So far, she had yet to display any emotion. The only thing that betrayed her feelings was her hands, balled into fists.

Finally, she gulped, looking surprisingly calm. "I'm going to kill her," Bethany stated nonchalantly, as if she had announced she was going to start an essay for potions or read a book. "Pansy, that is," she clarified, but amended, "but if I wouldn't mind watching Rita drop dead, either."

The three Gryffindors exchanged dubious glances. "That's a little...violent, isn't it?" Harry asked lightly, though he was looking at her with concern.

"Probably, but I am past reason at this point."

"Why don't we eat lunch together?" Ron said suddenly, desperately attempting to ease the tension that had risen with the article. "Come on, we'll just throw this rag away and you'll sit with us today, Beth."

"Don't," Bethany reached for the magazine, snatching it. "It might be useful. At any rate, I'll send it to Lucius and Narcissa. Then they'll know I had a motive."

The Gryffindors exchanged uneasy glances as she shoved the magazine into her bag with an unusual amount of aggression. The more she talked, the more it sounded like this was not hyperbole and in fact a conscious stream of thought detailing her desire to end the life of their classmate. Normally, Bethany was so docile, only expressing negativity through complaining about Malfoy annoying her or how ridiculous it was that they had to write an essay for Divination. Her fury was not a palpable component in those scenarios.

As they ate, Bethany's rage seemed to dissipate. She eventually stopped stabbing at the food on her plate and began instead chewing thoughtfully while staring at the wall overtop Ron's head. "Feeling better?" Harry offered her a smile.

"A bit."

"That's good!" Ron acted as if Christmas had arrived early. "Glad to hear you no longer wish to exact a fiery revenge upon Pansy Parkinson."

"Oh, I do," Bethany said, and Hermione's eyes widened as her knuckles whitened as she gripped her fork. "But I thought it over, and I don't really need to add fuel to the fire. After all, what better way to prove I'm You-Know-Who's daughter than to off somebody?"

"Exactly," said Ron, nowhere near as pleased as he had been before. "So...erm, what are you thinking now?"

"Well, I was giving consideration to seriously maiming her—"

"Bethany, no!" Hermione burst out. "You can't! What if you get caught? Then you won't be a prefect next year!"

"Forget that! You could get sent to Azkaban! Or worse," Ron began gesticulating wildly, trying to think up a worse fate before deciding on, "expelled!"

Bethany felt her lips twitch involuntarily as Hermione gave Ron an awestruck look. "Calm down," she said, looking back down at her plate. "I was just _thinking_ , alright? I won't be punished for that."

The trio breathed a collective sigh of relief. "You have no idea how glad I am to hear that," said Harry, messing his hair up even more at ran his finger through it. "Do you have any idea how scary you can be when you are actually mad?"

"I've been told before," she said, already sounding more conversational. The same hard look was in her eyes, but they sparkled with amusement. "My temper was something of legend at the orphanage."

"Here's hoping we won't see it again for a while," Ron said, raising up his cup full of pumpkin juice in the air.

* * *

The next Saturday, the copy of _Witch Weekly_ was released for the public to read and the first Hogsmeade trip of the term coincided. Bethany could tell the article had been read judging by the stares she received when she walked through the hallways to meet up with Harry, Ron, and Hermione. She did her best to ignore them, realizing there was nothing she could do to prove to them outright that she wasn't a murderous, maniacal villain. Besides, if they thought Harry was dim enough to befriend somebody who wanted him dead, then they were the foolish ones.

Pansy has been gloating over her victory the rest of the week in Herbology, constantly making little remarks and quoting excerpts from the article. Bethany never trusted herself enough to say anything to hear and would instead focus on attempting to repot her plants, though at one point Daphne Greengrass's pot miraculously shattered when nobody was touching it. Bethany couldn't say she wasn't sore when she saw that Draco was among many of the Slytherin (and, when including Anthony Goldstein, Ravenclaw) boys rushing to her aid.

It was a grey morning as they walked down to the village. The ground was wet from the melting snow, and the gravel crunches beneath their feet. Bethany's gaze fell onto the Black Lake, where, to her shock, somebody was swimming. "Who's that?"

"Looks like Krum," said Ron with a scowl, wrapping his red scarf tighter around his neck.

Harry seemed as shocked as Bethany was. "He's mad! It must be freezing, it's January!" By this point, Krum had stepped out of the lake, water dripping off of him.

"It's a lot colder where he comes from. I suspect the water is quite warm to him," Hermione smiled at his soaking wet figure as Krum bent over to pick up his towel.

"Yeah, but there's still the giant squid," Ron pointed out, as if he was hoping the creature would crawl onto land and drag the Quidditch star into the lake's murky depths.

Hermione wasn't amused. "He's really nice, you know. He's not at all like you'd think, coming from Durmstrang. He likes it much better here, he told me so."

The village was bustling by the time they reached in. The Three Broomsticks offered warmth from the chill outside, and Bethany pulled her hat off of her head and stowed it away into the pocket of her coat, where her wand sat. Harry and Hermione walked up to the bar, ordering the drinks while Bethany and Ron found an empty booth.

"How're you holding up?" Ron asked, once they had squeezed into their respective sides of the table so that they could save Harry and Hermione seats.

"Swell," Bethany lied. In truth, she hated feeling everyone's eyes on her. Part of her wished she had stayed inside the castle, but she hadn't wanted to break off an arrangement with her friends.

"Look, if anyone tries to give you problems, you can just tell Harry and I about it and we'll see it's sorted out, yeah?" Ron said solemnly, hands folded on the table.

The reassurance his words brought her quelled the nerves. "Thanks, Ron," she said, as warmly as she possibly could.

It was then Hermione rejoined him, holding two glasses full of foamy Butterbeer in her hand. "Harry's got yours, Bethany," said Hermione, sitting next to Ron and sliding it over to him.

Bethany frowned. Where was Harry then? She turned around, only to see Ludo Bagman chatting with him. Judging by the expression on her friend's face, he seemed uncomfortable. _Poor Harry._

A group of Hufflepuffs shuffled past their table, a couple of the girls whispering loudly to one another once they spied Bethany. "Ignore them," Ron said, glaring at them as they settled at their own table.

Harry returned a short while later, relating to the group about how Bagman was trying to give him hints for the upcoming task. It was unethical, of course, and Bethany was pleased to hear Harry had declined his help.

Their conversation, as it so often did, veered off topic. Hermione and Bethany were busy explaining to Ron about the intricacies of the Goblin Rebellion when a grating yet familiar voice filled the pub.

"...didn't seem very keen to talk to us, did he, Bozo? Now, why would that be, do you think? And what's he doing with a pack of goblins in tow anyway?" Rita Skeeter was examining her manicured nails which were a bright pink, clashing horrendously with her garish yellow robes. "Showing them the sights... what nonsense... he was always a bad liar. Reckon something's up? Think we should do a bit of digging? 'Disgraced Ex-Head of Magical Games and Sports, Ludo Bagman?' Snappy start to a sentence, Bozo—we just need to find a story to fit it—"

"Trying to ruin somebody else's life?" Harry all but shouted, causing several people to turn and see what the commotion was about. Much to Bethany's dismay, the Hufflepuffs from before were gaping at them as if they had been witness to some gruesome crime. A few older Slytherins were watching the scene as well.

Rita was either ignoring or simply ignorant of Harry's utter disdain directed towards her. "Harry! How lovely! Why don't you come over and join—?"

"I wouldn't come near you with a ten-foot broomstick! Bethany has been one of my best friends from the start! Why did you do that to her, eh?"

"Harry!" Bethany whispered, both petrified and flattered that he was defending her in such a public manner.

Rita Skeeter was unaffected by Harry's rage. "Our writers have the right to know the truth, Harry. I am merely doing my job. Besides, shouldn't you be pleased I have exposed that girl for who she truly is? The daughter of the monster who scarred you and has made you an orphan?"

"Who her parents are is none of your damn business!" By now, everyone in the pub was watching the showdown play out.

A slow smile appeared on the woman's bright red lips. "Perhaps you would like to give an interview on the Bethany Riddle you know. After all, it isn't everyday a young boy chooses to befriend the child of his enemy. A remarkable story of unlikely friendship and forgiveness! Maybe you could bring her here, so that you may give a joint interview about the nature of your relationship?"

Before Harry or Bethany could respond, Hermione stood up, looking disgusted. "You horrible woman! You don't care, do you, anything for a story, and anyone will do, wont they? Even Ludo Bagman—"

"Sit down, you silly little girl, and don't talk about things you don't understand. I know things about Ludo Bagman that would make your hair curl... not that it needs it—" Rita eyed Hermione's hair with disdain. Bethany's hands tightened into fists. How dare she call Hermione, the brightest witch of their age and the smartest girl in their year, silly? She was embarrassing herself!

"Let's go," Hermione said between gritted teeth. "C'mon... Harry, Bethany..."

"Bethany?" Rita suddenly seemed more amiable than before. " _This_ is the famous Bethany Riddle?"

"The infamous, thanks to you," Bethany replied cooly. "And I am afraid must decline on your offer for an interview. After all, I wouldn't want you to feel unsafe, given all my _dark_ powers," she spat.

"Bethany!" Hermione's hand was wrapped around her arm, and she felt herself being pulled out of the pub. It wasn't until they were standing outside, in the cool air, that the tension began to leave her body.

"Well," began Harry, "that went well." A nervous laugh escaped her.

Ron, however, saw no humor in the situation. "She'll be after you next, Hermione," he said, looking at her with concern.

"Let her try!" Hermione was fuming. ""I'll show her! Silly little girl, am I? Oh, I'll get her back for this. First Harry, then Bethany..."

Ron protested, insisting that Hermione was going to only make things worse for herself, but Bethany couldn't help but feel grateful for the two friends on either side of her. Having friends like this, who truly cared, and were willing to stick up for her, was more than she had ever dreamed or deserved.

* * *

"Do you want some tea?" Bethany asked kindly, staring down at Harry, whose face was pressed up against his book. Ron and Hermione had just been summoned by Professor McGonagall, so she was the only one left to help him. "I could fetch you some."

"No thanks," Harry mumbled against the pages. "Thanks, though."

Even though her anxiety was rising more and more every time she thought about the second task in the morning, she couldn't help but feel a surge affection for the dark haired boy beside her. "Don't worry. We'll find something. I know we will."

"Easy for you to say."

"We will!" Bethany insisted. As if to prove her point, she flipped the pages of the book in front of her on magical plants. "Harry, right here! Gillyweed!"

"What's that?"

"It's a plant that lets you breathe underwater!" Bethany was delighted, tracing her finger underneath the words. "It allows you to grow gills—"

"Where am I supposed to get Gillyweed?" Harry despaired, running his hands through his hair.

Bethany's excitement disappeared. "Good question," she said flatly, closing the book.

It was already dark in the library, rapidly approaching eight o'clock. Bethany knee Madame Pince was going to be ordering them to leave soon.

It hit her suddenly. "I think I know how you can get your Gillyweed, Harry," she said, pressing her lips together when he lifted his head up. "But...you aren't going to like it."

* * *

"Wait out here," Bethany said quietly, slipping out from underneath the Invisibility Cloak. It wasn't so late that they would be in trouble for roaming the halls, but given that Harry was a Triwizard champion, it was best to handle things without suspicion from others.

Bethany knocked on the door to Professor Snape's classroom, knowing that he would likely be there brewing a potion or just waiting to help any students looking for help. "Come in," he called out.

Bethany nodded at the empty space where Harry was standing and slipped inside. "Bethany," Professor Snape greeted her. "What a surprise! We didn't schedule a lesson for tonight, did we?"

"No, sir. I actually stopped in because... well, I'd like to borrow something from you," said Bethany, already feeling embarrassed. It was unlike her to seek help or a favor from somebody, let alone a professor.

He looked up from over his potion, frowning. "Of course," he said, folding his hands together. He stirred the potion thrice. "What can I give you?"

"Gillyweed, sir," she said hastily.

His eyebrows rose. "Gillyweed?" When she nodded, he asked, "Why on Earth would you require Gillyweed? You aren't planning on taking a swim in the Black Lake tonight, are you?"

"No, sir," she affirmed. "But one of my dear friends is planning on doing so tomorrow."

"Ah. Is this friend perchance Mr. Potter?"

"Yes, sir. We've ran into some difficulties, seeing as Harry can't hold his breath for an hour and expect to survive, and a lot of the spells are too complex for him to perform. So I thought Gillyweed would be a better solution."

"I see," Professor Snape said. "Unfortunately, I cannot assist Champions."

Bethany gaped at him. She was well aware of his disdain for her friends, but denying Harry help seemed low. "However," Professor Snape continued, "if Mr. Potter was sneak in under his Invisibility Cloak and take it from my storage cabinets, I would have no way of stopping him."

Bethany smiled brightly. "Thank you, sir!"

"Don't thank me," Professor Snape said, though he seemed amused. "I had nothing to do with it."

Once Bethany had left Professor Snape's classroom, she ducked under the cloak again, relaying what had happened to Harry. "That git!" Harry ground out between gritted teeth.

"Harry! He's helping you! I know you don't like him, but he could be in trouble if they discovered he was giving preferential treatment to a champion, especially one from the school he teaches at!"

"Moody helped me," said Harry sullenly.

"He helped lead you to the answers," said Bethany, feeling more than a little exasperated. "And I'm not sure if he was exactly following the rules by doing that. Besides, Professor Snape has given you his permission! That's something, isn't it?"

Harry made a noise that was a half groan, half sigh. "I suppose I'll sneak down here tomorrow and get it, then."

"Why not do it now?" Before he could respond, she said, "Never mind. It's been a long night."

Harry seemed relieved that she wasn't challenging him. "C'mon. I'll walk you to the Ravenclaw Tower."

Bethany smiled, and they began walking through the hallways. They didn't speak to one another; Bethany was relieved to finally have found something to help Harry out, and she suspected he felt the same. A major weight had been lifted off their shoulders.

When they finally reached the golden eagle knocker, Bethany pulled Harry in for a hug. "You're going to do great tomorrow," she whispered. "I know you are. Please don't spend all night worrying."

"I won't," he said. Bethany was sure if she believed him or not, but she hoped her words of encouragement did him some good. "Thanks."

Bethany stepped away, beaming at him. "I'll meet up with you tomorrow, alright?"

"In front of the Gryffindor common room?"

"Sounds good to me."


	21. Chapter 21

**Momento Mori**

**Chapter Twenty: Stars Shine Darkly**

Draco trudged down to the lake with Crabbe and Goyle lumbering behind him. The sun had been clouded over and the waters of the lake were as dark as ever. He shoved his hands in his pockets, trying to keep the chill of the wind from affecting him.

By the time he arrived to the lake, it seemed as if Potter, Krum, and Diggory were all there. "C'mon," he said to his companions, "let's find a seat."

He began ascending the steps, scanning through the crowd for an open spot. He spotted Pansy at the top, joined by Daphne and Millicent. Draco hadn't spoken more than a couple words at a time to Pansy since the article in _Witch Weekly,_ but their friendship had been strained after the Yule Ball. He knew, logically, that he hadn't been a very good date, but it wasn't any excuse to blab secret information to the likes of Rita Skeeter. Mother and Father had been furious, urging him to cut off all ties with Pansy.

His eyes widened when he realized Bethany was sitting alone in front of a group of Durmstrang students, her eyes fixed on the other side of the stands. For whatever reason, she had been avoiding him since the Yule Ball. She seemed more skittish that usual, averting eye contact and speaking quickly.

Deciding that he needed to talk to her, he marched over to her seat. Judging by the sound of footsteps behind him, Crabbe and Goyle had decided to follow him.

"Hi," he said when she didn't notice him.

Bethany jolted before seeing who it was and let out a loud sigh of what he presumed was relief. "Mind if we have a seat?" Draco didn't bother waiting for her response before sitting down beside her.

"Don't do that!" Her hand came to rest upon her chest, eyes widened. "You scared me!"

"Not my fault you weren't paying attention," he said, feeling more than a little sore. When she said nothing, he asked, "Why've you been avoiding me?"

"I haven't!" She said, but refused to look at him. "I've been helping Harry prepare for this task for weeks now. I haven't had much spare time."

Draco let out a sigh. He knew she was lying... or at least partially lying. He doubted Potter would be standing at the edge of the lake right now if it weren't for Bethany. "I got a low grade on that quiz in Ancient Runes last week," he told her.

"It's not my fault," Bethany insisted, and judging by her stiffening posture she was growing angry with him. "You have brains, you ought to use them every once in a while instead of relying on me to help you study."

Before he could reply, Goyle elbowed him sharply. "Ouch! Watch it!" Draco snapped, rubbing his arm.

"Look! It's her! It's Fleur Delacour!"

Indeed, it was. The blonde Champion was hugging two brunettes, her hair pulled back into a bun. There was something about her that managed to entrance him every time he laid eyes on her... maybe it was her laughter, or her—

A sharp kick to his ankles tore his gaze away. Bethany was glowering at him. "What was that for?"

"You were looking like an idiot again," she said, a small smile playing on her lips. "You're welcome."

Even though he was pleased he had finally managed to capture her attention, the stinging in his ankle caused him to scowl. "Why do you insist on kicking me when I look at other girls?" He snapped.

"Because you looked like an idiot. Plain and simple," said Bethany, folding her hands into her lap as she straightened her posture. "Besides, she's a quarter Veela. That's part of the reason you're so _entranced_ by her."

A quarter Veela? Draco hadn't even realized it was possible. He wondered if Father had ever heard of such a thing before. He would have to ask him... he frowned. "Entranced?" How had she known that was the exact wording he used... Merlin, he hadn't spoken them out loud, had he? He doubted he could put up with the ridicule.

"You don't know what it means?" Her eyebrows furrowed. "My God, does she mess with your head that badly?"

"Never mind," Draco said hastily, looking back at the Champions, this time avoiding looking at Fleur. He didn't want to be attacked again.

"Well, all our champions are ready for the second task, which will start on my whistle," Ludo Bagman announced, his voice booming throughout the vicinity. "They have precisely an hour to recover what has been taken from them. On the count of three, then. One...two...three!"

A whistle pierced through the air, and Viktor Krum raced into the icy waters of the lake, waving his wand before submerging himself. Potter, Draco was pleased to see, looked like a fool as he tore his shoes and socks off and waded to the waters edge. He shoved something into his mouth, standing in the water even after Fleur and Diggory had gone under the water. A laugh escaped him. "Is Potter enjoying a snack? I thought it was Weasley's forte to wolf an entire meal down before doing anything!"

"Oh, be quiet!" Bethany appeared to be fuming. "If you are going to insult my friends, I might as well leave!"

Draco's eyes widened. It had been nearly a month since he and Bethany had conversed; he had forgotten to keep his mouth shut about the band of misfits she called friends. "Wait, don't go! I didn't mean anything by it!" When he saw her exterior soften, he asked, "Speaking of Weasley, where is he? I would have thought he and Granger would be here supporting Potter with you."

"They're at the bottom of the lake," she replied nonchalantly.

"What?"

"Each of the Champions had something taken from them. The thing they would miss most," said Bethany. "And those 'somethings' were their friends."

"Potter's got to rescue Granger _and_ Weasley?" Before Bethany could affirm it, he demanded, "Why aren't you down there, then? Doesn't he value you as a friend?" Draco doubted he could put words to explain the emotions he was feeling, but he knew that he currently wanted to hex Potter with something foul.

"He does," she stated, but Draco saw a flicker of insecurity in her eyes. She swallowed before saying, "I think he only is supposed to rescue Ron. Hermione is probably down there for Viktor."

 _Viktor?_ "You're on a first name basis with Krum?" He couldn't help but feel envious. He'd love to be friends with a professional Quidditch player... even if they had a lousy taste in dates to the Yule Ball.

"Not really. Hermione tells me about him a lot about him, though. And she calls him Viktor... I must have picked it up from her."

"They're together then? The Mud— er, Granger and Krum?" _Dammit_ , he thought as she glared at him. All this time with nobody but Crabbe, Goyle, and occasionally Theodore Nott for company had taken a toll on his abilities to correct himself before speaking to her.

"Hermione and Krum are dating, yes," she finally responded. The look she was giving him sent shivers down his spine. Draco had yet to meet the Dark Lord, but he suspected this was a trait he had passed onto his daughter. Even though Father always spoke of the Dark Lord admirably, Draco knew he also feared displeasing the man he had devoted his service to.

"That surprises me," he said, knowing that he would likely incur her anger again by speaking the words, but it was the truth. Why Viktor Krum had chosen to associate with Granger was beyond him. Durmstrang was supposed to teach Dark magic and ban Mudbloods from attending. Either Krum was weaker than Draco had ever imagined he could be or Durmstrang's ideals were growing more lax. It was troubling on both fronts; he had to remember to mention this to Father...

"Hermione has plenty of wonderful qualities. The only reason you don't see them is because _you_ are a bigot."

"I can't imagine they have much in common. That's all," Draco said, only half lying. There was nothing about Granger that would entice any man, in his opinion, even when one set her blood status aside. What on Earth would an eighteen year old international Quidditch star have in common with a fourth year Mudblood?

"He thinks she is kind," she told him. "And he's right." Her eyes focused on her knees. "I don't think he likes me very much, to be honest."

Draco frowned. "Why not?"

"I think he must have read Rita Skeeter's stupid article," Bethany said sadly. "A lot of people don't like me anymore."

That tight, angry feeling rose up once more. "Don't listen to what anyone has to say. They're just jealous."

She let out a humorless laugh. "Yeah. Right. Who wouldn't want to be the Dark Lord's daughter? It's _loads_ of fun."

"What's that?" Goyle said, nudging Draco's arm before he could attempt to defend Bethany from herself. His friend was leaned forward, eyes trained on the waves of the lake.

Annoyed, he scowled. "What are you talking about?"

"That!"

Bethany, Crabbe, and Draco followed the direction in which Goyle was pointing. Sure enough, something was bobbling under the surface on the water. Seconds later, a drenched Fleur Delacour emerged from the water, stricken. "What's she doing?" Crabbe asked.

"How am I supposed to know?" Draco snapped irritably.

Fleur climbed onto the dock, and Madame Maxime rushed to her side. Her face screwed up, and it was impossible to tell if she was crying or not due to the sheer distance and the water clinging to her skin. "What's this?" Ludo Bagman asked, his voice echoing throughout the makeshift stadium. Madame Maxime withdrew from Fleur, walking over to Bagman to speak quietly. "Miss Delacour has withdrawn from this task, citing complications with the Grindylows in the lake."

"Grindylows?" Goyle seemed gobsmacked. "I didn't know there were Grindylows in the lake."

"Neither did I," Crabbed chimed in.

Draco looked over at Bethany who caught his eye and smirked. Merlin, he _had_ missed her company...

The girls seated in front of them began whispering to one another. " _Elle est si bête! Je ne peux pas la croire!"_

" _Nous allons perdre à cause d'elle_!"

"What lovely, supportive friends," Draco muttered, just low enough for Bethany to overhear him.

Her eyebrows furrowed. "You know French?" When he nodded, she asked, "What are they saying?"

"They're insulting her."

Bethany glared at the backs of their heads. "That's awful! I'd like to see them try to compete in this competition!"

Pleased to see she was now in higher spirits, he mused, "I wonder if they'll leave Davies under the water or if he'll be fetched after the task."

"Rodger is here," said Bethany, turning her head. "See? He'd next to Nathaniel Newer."

Draco scanned the crowd and saw the Ravenclaw Quidditch captain was indeed with his friends, laughing, seemingly oblivious that Fleur was no longer competing and was sobbing in Madame Maxime's arms. "Their Yule Ball must have gone badly," he said without thinking.

"I don't think so," said Bethany, and he could see she was smirking. "Harry told me that they were snogging in the bushes."

 _Good for Davies,_ Draco thought, impressed. Still, that raised the question of who Fleur was supposed to rescue. Before he could voice anything like this, Bethany said, "I wonder who is under the lake for her, then. Her supposed _friends_ are in front of us."

How had she done that? It was as if she had stolen the thoughts from his mind. She didn't know Legimancy, did she? When he didn't answer, she turned to stare at him curiously. "I don't know who else it could be," he responded, sounding more calm than he felt. How did she keep doing that? It was bizarre.

"Poor girl," she said, sounding more sympathetic than she had earlier when triumphantly telling him she was a quarter Veela. "Whoever it is, she must feel awful."

Draco agreed. Fleur's face was buried in Madame Maxime's giant shoulder now, her shoulders shaking. Suddenly, he felt sick. "What happens to the people in the lake? If they don't get there?"

"I don't know." Bethany seemed paler than usual. "I— They wouldn't just leave them there, would they? They couldn't!"

But Draco knew she was thinking the same thing he was. Under Dumbledore's reign as headmaster, he had allowed his worst enemy to infiltrate the school twice, had allowed Dementors to guard the school, and a fourteen year old was one of the Triwizard champions. Who was to say that batty old man wouldn't let someone drown?

They both grew silent, ruminating on the fate that awaited the person in the water. "Harry will probably save them. Whoever it is," Bethany finally said.

"Potter?" Draco had to admit, it wasn't an unlikely scenario. He was arrogant enough to do such a thing, to bolster his bravado with a display of heroics. "Makes sense," he told her. She beamed.

The rest of the task was rather boring. Unlike the first task with dragons, there was nothing impressive to watch. It almost seemed like a waste of time. He needed to study for Ancient Runes... without Bethany's help, he had languished in that class. As soon as OWLs were through, Draco was dropping that class.

Much to his relief, this time was already rejuvenating their friendship. The ease he was accustomed to returned, as they swapped stories from their month apart. The longer they talked, it was as if there hadn't been a divide at all.

Suddenly, there was a commotion. Draco turned to the lake and saw Diggory, drenched and pulling Cho Chang out of the water. "Finally!" Crabbe exclaimed. "It's been ages! I'm getting tired!"

"No it hasn't," Draco rolled his eyes. Leave it to Crabbe to over exaggerate everything.

"And our first champion has returned, along with his hostage!" Ludo Bagman broadcasted, amplifying his voice a second time. "He was gone for sixty three minutes and eighteen seconds."

Draco frowned. Two hours? "It hasn't been nearly that long," he exclaimed. "The task only just started."

Bethany didn't seem nearly as surprised as he was. "Time flies when you are having fun," she supposed, smiling.

It didn't take much longer before Krum re-emerged from the water, pulling Granger to the surface. "You were right," Draco said without an ounce of happiness. Honestly, something had to be wrong with Krum.

"I always am." Bethany was grinning, clearly

teasing him. But it quickly faded. "Now we just have to wait for Harry."

But ten minutes passed, and Potter had not appeared. Then fifteen. Then twenty. Bethany was on the edge of her seat, eyes scanning the lake for any trace for Potter. When thirty minutes had gone by, she looked ill.

Suddenly, from the depths of the lake arose three figures; Weasley was unmistakable, with his ginger hair darker than normal, and a small girl with blonde hair bobbed in the waters. The third had to be none other than Potter. "There he is!" Draco heard somebody shout behind them. "He's back! Potter made it!"

One of Weasleys brothers (Draco was fairly certain he was Crouch's assistant) walked into the water to meet his brother and pull him into a hug. Draco sneered at the display. Fleur was screaming, trying to lunge into the water herself.

"It's her sister," Bethany stated as the blonde little girl was hugged fiercely by Fleur.

"I didn't know she had a sister."

"I didn't either. But they look so similar..."

A large crowd began huddling around Potter, who was soaking wet. Draco was astounded to see the water had actually flattened Potter's unruly hair. "Are you going to see them, then?" He asked Bethany, who was on the edge of her seat.

She seemed to hesitate before saying, "I better not. I don't want to interfere."

 _Interfere with what?_ Draco wanted to ask, but Ludo Bagman began to announce the scores. "Ladies and gentlemen, we have reached our decision. Merchieftainess Murcus has told us exactly what happened at the bottom of the lake, and we have therefore decided to award marks out of fifty for each of the champions, as follows...

"Fleur Delacour, though she demonstrated excellent use of the Bubble-Head Charm, was attacked by grindylows as she approached her goal, and failed to retrieve her hostage. We award her twenty-five points." Draco began to clap and noticed that the girl looked rather sad. There was no way she was going to be able to win the Tournament now.

Bagman continued. "Cedric Diggory, who also used the Bubble-Head Charm, was first to return with his hostage, though he returned one minute outside the time limit of an hour." The Hufflepuffs in the stands began cheering loudly. "We therefore award him forty-seven points.

"Viktor Krum used an incomplete form of Transfiguration, which was nevertheless effective, and was second to return with his hostage. We award him forty points."

"Harry Potter used gillyweed to great effect. He returned last, and well outside the time limit of an hour. However, the Merchieftainess informs us that was first to reach the hostages, and that the delay in his return was due to his determination to return all hostages to safety, not merely his own. Most of the judges," Bagman glared at Karkaroff, "feel that this shows moral fiber and merits full marks. However... Mr. Potter's score is forty-five points."

Bethany cheered loudly at this. Not wanting to spark another arguement, Draco clapped for Potter as he had for the other champions, but with considerably less enthusiasm. Crabbe and Goyle didn't even bother, scowling at Potter as if he were a cockroach.

The third and final task will take place at dusk on the twenty-fourth of June," Bagman announced. "The champions will be notified of what is coming precisely one month beforehand. Thank you all for your support of the champions."

"I have to go see him!" Bethany had leapt to her feet, seeming to have changed her tune. "I'll meet you in the library tomorrow... if you want, that is," she added hastily, seeming somewhat nervous. "We could work on Ancient Runes, so you don't fall behind again."

Draco nodded, relieved. She was finally herself once again. "See you then."

Beaming, Bethany raced down the stairs, ignoring all the other students as she met Potter, wrapping her arms around him. Draco felt the same, annoyed feeling he had felt at the Yule Ball when he had seen her with Potter. "Let's go," he said to Crabbe and Goyle, rising to his feet.

* * *

_Albus Dumbledore's Great Mistakes by Rita Skeeter_

_The Boy Who Lived, it seems, continues to suffer under the negligence of Hogwart's incompetent headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. Miss Granger, a dull girl who is supposedly 'the cleverest witch at Hogwarts', has bewitched both Mr. Potter and international Quidditch star, Viktor Krum. Her dalliances with both men have caused a strain in Harry Potter's romance with the rumored daughter of You-Know-Who, Miss Riddle._

" _[Granger] is upset that Potter moved on so fast," claims Daphne Greengrass, a pretty fourth year at Hogwarts. "She is always flaunting her relationship with Krum in his face, which makes him jealous and I think Riddle is starting to get sick of it."_

 _According to numerous letters sent to_ Witch Weekly, _Miss Riddle is a respectable young lady with a mysterious past and an all consuming love for Mr. Potter. Blaise Zabini told our reporter that she spent weeks in the library to help her boyfriend prepare for the second task, only for him to embrace Miss Granger, who had been rescued from the murky waters by Viktor Krum._

_Viktor Krum, who has fallen for Miss Granger's tricks, has already invited her to visit him in Bulgaria over the summer holidays, and insists that he has "never felt this way about any other girl." Numerous students at Hogwarts have suggested that Miss Granger may be influencing him with the use of a Love Potion. However, Albus Dumbledore has not taken the appropriate measures to ensure neither Triwizard champion is being drugged with these potions, something that concerns the public. Nevertheless, Miss Granger remains a favorite amongst teachers at Hogwarts, and shall continue to bewitch these two powerful men until her lust for power is satisfied._

"What a load of rubbish!" Bethany slammed the magazine down on the table, scowling. "It's...it's nonsense, is what it is!"

"I told you!" Ron hissed at Hermione as she collected the magazine. "I told you not to annoy Rita Skeeter! She's made you out to be some sort of- of scarlet woman!"

Hermione began giggling. "Scarlet woman?" Bethany was snickering as well.

"It's what my Mum calls them," Ron said, face flushing.

"If it's the best Rita can do, she's losing her touch," Hermione said, laughs continuing the escape her. "What a pile of old rubbish!"

"It's lacks her usual pizzazz," said Bethany, pleased Hermione was taking it well. She was dealing better than Bethany had, at any rate.

Hermione smiled and waved, and when Bethany turned her head, she saw there were a group Slytherins, including Pansy and Daphne, who were watching to see Hermione's reaction. Draco wasn't there, thank God— he had been keeping his distance from his housemates recently, much to her delight. He'd began pairing up with her instead of Pansy during Herbology, which was fantastic on a number of levels; it gave them time to talk and it infuriated Pansy to no end.

Ron and Hermione had tuned out the rest of the world, it seemed, as Hermione uncharacteristically continued to tease him about 'scarlet women'. Bethany was wondering why they weren't dating already. Who else would prompt Hermione to tease them? "Maybe we ought to have a bet going to see how many times she'll mention us in one of her rubbish articles," she said to Harry.

"She was a lot nicer to you this time," remarked Harry to Bethany.

"Oh, I'm not surprised," she said. "Lucius sent me a letter saying he sent them a nasty letter and pulled out a lot of money that he uses for advertising in their magazines."

Harry blinked. "Huh."

Bethany bit down on the inside of her lip. "I know what you're thinking, and I understand, but they really are nice to me." It was an understatement, given all they had done for her.

"There is something funny, though," Hermione said, addressing the whole group. "How could Rita Skeeter have known..." she trailed off, eyes darting to Ron as she blushed.

"Known what? You haven't been mixing up Love Potions, have you?" He asked.

"Don't be stupid!" She snapped. "No, it's just... how did she know Viktor asked me to visit him over the summer?"

"What?" Ron's voice was so loud that it drew attention from the other Gryffindors at the table. Harry exchanged a look with Bethany, and she immediately knew he knew.

"He asked me after he pulled me out of the lake. After he'd got rid of his shark's head. Madam Pomfrey gave us both blankets and then he sort of pulled me away from the judges so they wouldn't hear, and he said, if I wasn't doing anything over the summer, would I like to—"

"And what did you say?" Ron interrupted, seeming both aggravated and interested.

"Well, I was too busy seeing whether you and Harry were okay to answer," Hermione glanced about nervously. As Ron opened his mouth to presumably ask another question, she stood up and said, "I need to go to the bathroom, excuse me."

Ron stared after her, sputtering. "She can't go with him to Bulgaria! He's eighteen years old, for Merlin's sake!"

Bethany and Harry exchanged a second look, neither of them certain of what to say. Thankfully, Ron didn't seem to care about a lack of response, merely letting out a huff and inquiring Bethany about the Potions essay due the following week.

* * *

Defense Against the Dark Arts has become Bethany's least favorite subject. Each lesson detailed and presented acts that were more vile than the last, and the cherry on top was that all of these details were preceded by reminding everyone that "You-Know-Who" and his band of Death Eaters had used these curses against students. What's more, Professor Moody had taken to asking Bethany questions when she preferred to blend into the background. Occasionally, she knew the answer due to her reading of the textbooks, but whenever she didn't, he made a noise akin to tutting before calling on another Ravenclaw.

In any case, Bethany was damned. If she knew the answer, she would overhear Michael Corner muttering that "she must have learned it from her father". If she didn't, she heard Lisa Turpin saying that "she must have tricked the Sorting Hat to let her into Ravenclaw, she didn't even know the incantation to the Blood Curse!" Bethany knew the only reason Moody kept calling on her was because of that _stupid_ article, and she grew to loathe the class more and more with each lesson.

After a nasty lecture discussing hexes, Professor Moody barked out, "Riddle! I need to speak with you!"

Bethany heard gasps from behind her as Isobel and Lisa gathered their bags. Instantly, the worst came to mind; Moody would arrest her, citing her as a danger to society and she would be sent to Azkaban for the rest of her days. _Calm down,_ Bethany told herself, though her hands were shaking, _you're being dramatic. He can't arrest you— you haven't done anything wrong._ Still, her anxiety did not dissipate as she walked to the front of the room.

Moody was examining her, his magical eye zooming in before zooming out again. "Professor Snape has told me you are good at Potions," he stated. "Is that true?"

"...I suppose, sir," she replied. "It's, uh, my favorite subject."

Moody nodded. "Interesting. Your mother was talented with them as well."

She froze. How did he know who her mother was? Bethany gulped before saying, "I've been told that, sir."

"Not good at much else, but she knew how to make a damn good potion."

Her fingers gripped her wand tightly. "I would prefer it if you didn't speak ill of my mother, Professor," she said cooly, for once not caring about directly opposing an authority figure. "She is not here to defend herself."

"Of course, of course." He shuffled about the room, moving over to his desk. "I've looked at your records, Riddle, and your marks this year aren't as high as they were last year. You're only pulling an A."

 _Maybe it's because you're a raving nutcase,_ Bethany thought angrily, but instead she said, "I didn't know that, sir. I promise to study harder."

He nodded, before bending over to pick something up. "I have a book that I think will interest you," he said, setting a thick, leather bound tome on top of the desk. For a moment, Bethany thought it was her father's diary and seized up, only to realize the book was taller and wider than the diary, filled with thick, yellowing pages. _Moste Potente Potions,_ the title read. This was the same book she had used with Hermione to brew the Polyjuice Potion.

"Do you know how many original copies of this book are in existence, Riddle?" Professor Moody asked. When she didn't respond, he answered. "Five. One of them is in Hogwarts library as we speak. It's a rare thing. Treat it well." He pushes the book across the desk and Bethany realized, with a start, that he meant for her to keep it.

"Sir, I can't take this book," she insisted. Not only would she never forgive herself if she damaged this book, but she did not trust Professor Moody at all. He was the most unhinged, fearsome Defense she had ever had— which was saying something, considering Quirrell has her father living on the back of his head.

"If you've even the fraction of Delilah Shafiq's talent, you deserve it," Moody pushed the book towards her again, and Bethany backed away from it as if it were on fire. "Dark times are ahead of us, and I have a feeling your skills will be useful. If you can memorize these potions, you'll protect yourself from a great deal of danger."

Maybe he was right... and it was such a lovely book... "So you think m— You-Know-Who will return?" She had almost said _my father_.

"Wizards like him don't just disappear, Riddle. I know he'll be back... and sooner than most of us would like, I reckon."

His words sent chills down her spine. Nervously, she reached out and took the heavy book. "Thank you, sir," she said, shoving the book into her bag and absconding the classroom before he could say anything else.

Much to her surprise, Terry Boot and Padma Patil were waiting outside of the classroom. "Hey, Bethany!" Padma greeted her cheerfully. Even though Padma had been one of the few Ravenclaws to refrain from publicly ridiculing her, Bethany was instinctively mistrustful.

"Hi."

"So what was Professor Moody talking to you about?" Padma asked, eying the closed door.

Bethany shook her head. "I'm not doing well, that's all. He said that I needed to work harder." Bethany didn't like lying or only telling half truths, but she wasn't about to let them know that she was now in possession of one of the most fascinating books on potions the world had ever seen.

"Oh," Padma said. "He's kind of creepy, isn't he? I don't like his eye."

"Padma," Terry spoke up for the first time, almost chastising her. He faced Bethany, saying, "We wanted to make sure you're alright. We know a lot of the Ravenclaws—" Padma let out a cough that sounded suspiciously like " _Michael_ "— "haven't been the nicest since that rubbish article came out. We wanted to know if you'd sit with us at lunch today."

Bethany was dumbstruck. Terry and Padma were close friends with Michael and Anthony. In spite of knowing logically that it wasn't her fault, she felt a stab of guilt at possibly creating a schism between the Ravenclaw Quartet. Still, it was nice to know that she had allies in her own house, considering Ravenclaws weren't known for their loyalty. "Sure."

They both beamed. "Excellent!" Terry professed.

Bethany was stunned as she walked with them. Padma had always been kind to her, but she was unaware if she had ever spoken to Terry before. "We knew that Rita's article was a load of garbage from the start," said Padma, chattering away. "Terry and I wrote some complaints. Su did too, which was nice to her, and I convinced Parvati and Lavender to unsubscribe to _Witch Weekly._ "

Bethany's eyes widened. Merlin, she hadn't realized so many people were on her side. "Michael made a few comments at first," Terry said, almost shyly, "But we thought he would come to his senses eventually."

"But he didn't," Padma crossed her arms over her chest. "So we aren't speaking to him at the moment."

"Oh," was all Bethany could manage.

"I think our campaign has been working well," Padma said, beaming. "Su swiped Lisa's latest magazine so we could read Rita's latest _article—"_ she raised her hands up to use air quotes, "and she certainly backed off."

Bethany smiled gratefully at them. "Thank you. That means a lot." After a beat, she said, "Lucius wrote a letter to them as well, and stopped running advertisements, so I think that helped as well."

"Lucius?" Padma's eyebrows furrowed.

"As in Malfoy?"

"Yeah," said Bethany, suddenly realizing she had never explicitly told anybody in Ravenclaw that she lived with the Malfoys. "Him and his wife are my guardians."

"Really?" Terry seemed surprised.

"Is that why you always are hanging out with Malfoy in the library?" Padma asked.

Bethany nodded. "I never knew that," Terry commented. "Theodore Nott is my cousin, so he usually tells me what's going on."

Bethany's eyes widened. Now that he pointed it out, Bethany could see the stark resemblance. They were both tall, weedy boys with brown hair in nearly the same shade. Bethany wondered why she hadn't seen them together.

"I shouldn't be surprised, though." Terry's lips twitched. "Theo isn't all that observant. Not when it comes to people. He's pretty book smart, though."

"He's weird," Padma said. "I can't believe you're actually related to him."

"Almost everyone in the wizarding world is related to one another," Terry pointed out. "We just happen to be more closely related."

Padma shrugged. "The only person I'm related to here is Parvati."

"I don't know who I'm related to," Bethany spoke up, causing Terry and Padma to let out good natured laughs. "Maybe I should look into genealogical records."

"Well, you've got to be related to the Malfoys somehow, since you're living with them," Padma reasoned.

"Not necessarily," Terry said. "Riddle isn't a name on the Sacred Twenty Eight." Bethany was shocked he wasn't mentioning the obvious about her father. "Your mother was a Shafiq, wasn't she?" When Bethany gave him a questioning look, he said, "I remembered you telling Pansy our second year. When you two got into that fight." He grinned widely.

"I almost forgot about that!" Padma made a noise halfway between a gasp and a laugh. "I don't know how, though! That was so funny!"

Bethany smiled. "She was," she affirmed.

"Well, there hasn't been a Shafiq-Malfoy marriage in centuries. I think the last one was in the 1500s, and I think that line died out. I'll have to double check that, though," he said. "So I don't think you're related."

Merlin, how did he know that? "I don't understand how you can stand all that crap," Padma spoke up.

"My mother was a Nott. She's obsessed with making sure I 'maintain the pure blooded standards'. What else am I supposed to do when she shoves all the family trees in front of my face?" He rolled his eyes as he said so.

"Your dad is a halfblood!"

"Hence why they are divorced," said Terry, smirking.

Padma shook her head as they entered the Great Hall. Ron, Harry, and Hermione weren't at the Gryffindor table yet. For the first time in roughly a month, Bethany sat down at the Ravenclaw table. They were on end of the table, much to Bethany's relief. It would be easier to make an escape if she needed one.

"Well, Narcissa told me that my parents were friends with them," she said lowly. "So I suppose that was why I live there."

"I guess that makes sense," said Padma, reaching for a glass of pumpkin juice. "Draco's sort of like your brother then, isn't he?"

"No," Bethany replied automatically, without any thought. It was strange, considering Lucius and Narcissa served as the only parental figures in her life, but he had never been anything... well, _brotherly_. "He's... just my friend. But we have different views on a lot of things," she added. She didn't need them thinking she was a pureblooded maniac.

The conversation took a number of directions, usually concerning family. Padma talked about her parents, who both worked for the Ministry as Unspeakables. Terry shared stories about his father and older sister, Aurora. She noticed that he spoke little of his mother.

Padma was halfway through a story about how her and Parvati had convinced their parents to buy them a puppy when Bethany noticed that Fleur Delacour sat only a few seats away from them. She was as pretty as ever, but a sort of sadness clung to her. Bethany realized that she was alone. She wondered if the two spiteful French girls had abandoned her or if Fleur had decided not to sit with them.

"—and she was the cutest little thing... I wanted to name her Toffee because that's the color of her fur, but Parvati started to call her Boots, so it stuck."

"And it's a very fine name," Terry said, earning a laugh from Padma. When they realized Bethany wasn't laughing along with them, they followed her gaze. "She does look upset," Terry noted.

"I bet she's embarrassed," Padma said, running a hand through her dark hair. "I'd hate to lose a competition in front of so many people. She came dead last."

"I think I'm going to talk to her," Bethany said before she thought about it, and suddenly felt nervous. She usually didn't initiate conversation with others. Still, Fleur looked as if she needed some cheering up.

"Oh," Padma said, exchanging a glance with Terry.

Bethany waited until lunch was nearly over before she anxiously approached Fleur. Her meal seemed relatively untouched, as her gaze fixed upon something far away. "Um, hello," Bethany said, managing to grab her attention. Fleur turned around, lips parted slightly. Before Bethany began to doubt herself, she stammered, "I, uh, I just wanted to say that you did a good job in the second task."

Fleur shook her head. "No, I didn't. Forgive me, but I do not deserve any praise. I'm too cowardly. They shouldn't have given me any of ze points zat zey did."

"You did loads better than I would have in your shoes. It would have been terrified."

"I was terrified. Zey attacked me, and..." Fleur trailed off, looking forlorn. "Thank you. For coming over here. You are too kind."

Even though Fleur did not look particularly happy, Bethany was comforted by the fact she had at least spoken up. She offered Fleur a quick smile before ambling away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year to all, and thank you so much to all of you who have read!


	22. Chapter 21: A Thousand Deaths Would Die

**Momento Mori**

**Chapter Twenty One: A Thousand Deaths Would Die**

" _Moste Potente Potions_?" Hermione stared down at the book enviously. Bethany couldn't help but feel a sense of pride, in spite of her nerves. "Bethany, do you know how rare this is?"

Ron and Harry, both of whom had no interest in potions, were peering down at the book curiously. "Wonder why he gave it to you?" Ron mused aloud.

"I don't really know. I mean, I love making potions, but the ones listed in this book are awfully complex." Her nails, which grew longer than most, had shortened into stubs over the past couple of days. Nail biting had been one of her bad habits in her youth and it seemed she had picked up the practice once more. "I was wondering if you would perform the proper spells to make sure nothing is dangerous in it," Bethany requested Hermione. While she had looked up the spells herself, she didn't trust herself to perform them when she was as anxious as she was.

"What could be wrong with it?" Harry asked. "Why would Professor Moody give you a cursed book?"

"I don't know, but I don't trust him. And I'm not about to take anymore risks and open up strange books without checking to see if they are dangerous or not!" she snapped, feeling guilty when she saw Harry and Ron flinch at her sharp tone. "I've learned from my mistakes," she added, gentler this time.

Hermione nodded, and picked her wand up, muttering spells under breath. Golden light and flashes of electric blue emitted themselves from Hermione's wand, and finally, she sat it down. "It's safe," she confirmed, sliding it across the table to Bethany.

"Thanks," she said graciously, cracking open the spine for the first time. The pages were marked in dark black ink, written in a cursive scrawl. These had been written by Phineas Bourne himself, a malevolent wizard that was perhaps one of the greatest potion masters in Europe. The pages were thicker than those of her textbooks and yellowed by the centuries. She paused her flipping on page 201; somebody had dogeared the page detailing the Invisibility potion.

Bethany found herself staring down at the instructions for brewing the Laxative Potion. Ron, who glanced down at the page, said, "Ah. What a lovely potion."

"You never know. It might come in handy," said Bethany, thinking of how one this could serve as a wonderful treat for Pansy before stopping herself from getting carried away by vengeful thoughts. "Perhaps you'll become constipated someday."

Ron's face flushed. "Merlin, you always seem to bring up the worst things these days."

"As _crude_ as it is, Bethany is making a good point. These potions can help people. Most of them, anyway," Hermione said, her nose wrinkled slightly.

Harry frowned. "Why don't you trust Moody? He's one of the best teachers we've ever had for Defense!"

Sometimes, Bethany thought, it seemed as though Harry was always two steps behind them. Still, she had no problem in saying, "There's something off about him, Harry. I can't tell you what it is, but he puts me on edge." She bit down on the inside of her lip before saying, "Please, be careful around him, Harry. Promise me?"

He stared at her with those piercing green eyes so full of determination and deep down she knew this was a promise he wasn't going to keep, even as he uttered, "I promise."

Bethany gave him a mournful look before looking down at the book once more.

* * *

"Hm." Professor Snape flipped through the pages of the book, frowning at it. "How... very interesting."

Bethany smiled. Even though his words conveyed no excitement, the glint in his dark eyes told Bethany that he was fascinated by the book in her possession. "It seems like an extremely extravagant gift to bestow upon a student," he remarked, closing it as he handed it back to Bethany.

"It does," she admitted, carefully placing it into her bag. "I... I don't like him very much, to be honest," she confessed, feeling more hesitant than she had before. It was one thing to voice her suspicions to her friends; it was another to openly say this to a professor about their colleague.

"He is rather off putting," Professor Snape said, opening up a desk drawer to procure his inkwell.

"He is, but that's isn't what I meant. He... something about him seems off to me, Professor."

At this, he frowned. "I know that you have been... disturbed by some of his lessons in the past. I have to admit, there have been occasions where I have questioned his methods. However, Professor Dumbledore trusts Professor Moody, and it is undeniable that he understands dark magic very well, no matter how objectionable some of his teaching may be." He gave her a thin lipped smile. "I would not fret, in any case. He shall be gone at the end of the year— hopefully, the next Professor will be more to your liking."

Bethany bit on the bottom of her lip to stop herself from pointing out that Dumbledore, while a wise and powerful wizard, was only human and prone to making costly mistakes. After all, he had hired Quirrell and Lockhart, both of whom had wrought destruction in two different ways. Professor Snape simply didn't understand. It was frustrating, but she wasn't about to argue with him. How many times had Harry made bold claims that had only turned out to be wrong in the end? She wasn't about to make a fool of herself. "I understand, sir," she muttered.

Professor Snape nodded. "Now, as long as you are here, should we practice?"

Bethany, knowing he was referring to Occlumency, hesitated. Truth be told, she was eager to seek solace behind the curtains of her bed and read until her eyes grew tired so she could momentarily forget about her problems. But, if what Moody and so many others had said was true, she would need to ensure her skills were polished before the return of the Dark Lord.

"I suppose so, sir," she found herself replying.

* * *

Meals were getting easier with the companionship of Padma and Terry. Bethany found that they offered a great deal of insights to her assignments and the wizarding world in general. Every so often, Anthony joined them, usually to say hello to his friends before walking away without a word to Bethany.

"Prat," Padma declared as he walked away, rolling her eyes.

Terry seemed more conflicted. "It's hard for him. His uncle was killed by Rabastan Lestrange, you know, all because he married a Muggle."

"It's no excuse. Plenty of other people lost their family members to Death Eaters, too, it's no excuse to treat Beth poorly all because of a stupid rumor," Padma rattled off.

Bethany stiffened. Could they... did they not know? Did they think Rita had been lying? She supposed it wasn't out of the realm of possibility for them to assume such a thing. After all, so much of her writing was littered with falsehoods and fictions that it wouldn't be a stretch of the imagination to believe it was all lies.

"Bethany?"

"I'm sorry, what were you saying?" She asked, flustered.

Padma smiled at her. "That's alright. I was just wondering if you minded if we called you Beth?"

"Oh, no, it's fine!" She replied automatically. "I'm not... I don't mind."

Padma beamed.

But it seemed serenity was not fated for her, as proved the following day. It was a Saturday, and she was planning on spending the day in the library, studying for her upcoming exams. Normally, she would have elected to sit with Harry, Ron and Hermione, but they were getting an early start to help Harry practice for the upcoming task.

Khione flew into the hall, dropping a letter from Lucius and Narcissa. "Hi, girl," Bethany cooed, the small owl nuzzling her hand. Now that she was fully grown, it was clear to see she was (and would likely never be) as large as Hedwig. She was still energetic and craved affection. She refused to leave until Bethany had petted her downy feathers five times before she flew away, returning to the owlery.

Bethany opened her letter, scanning the words. _...Meredith Parkinson had the nerve to invite us to her garden party next month, and I wrote a rather scathing response...several Ministry galas, but I know those don't interest you... treating you well? If they aren't, be sure to let us know, and we shall tell Severus about it... study hard and earn top marks— you and Draco are both so clever..._

A tawny owl swooped overheads, dropping something onto her lap. With annoyance, Bethany sat her letter down to look down at the envelope and her stomach sank immediately. She picked up the red envelope with dismay.

Padma, who had taken a bite of toast, nearly spat it out. "Oh, no! Who is that from?"

The flap of the envelope started to steam. "I don't know," Bethany said lowly, hands beginning to tremble as she flipped the envelope over. There was no name, no return address, merely _Miss Riddle,_ scratched into it with such fierce intensity that the words were indented.

Bethany looked hesitantly to Terry, who nodded. "It's worse if you ignore it," he said softly. "Best to get it over with quickly."

She nodded. He was right, of course... As if ripping off a bandaid, Bethany squeezed her eyes and ripped open the envelope, and a screechy voice filled the air.

" _LEAVE HARRY POTTER ALONE, YOU FOUL CREATURE OF DARKNESS! YOU SHOULD BE IMPRISONED FOR YOUR TREACHEROUS CRIMES! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT MAYHEM YOU HAVE CAUSED? MY CYRIL WAS MURDERED IN COLD BLOOD BY BELLATRIX LESTRANGE, AND SHE TORTURED HIM BEFORE SHE DID IT! YOU'RE NOT BETTER THAN HER, ARE YOU? A BLOODTHIRSTY WRETCH TRYING TO KILL HARRY POTTER AND BRING BACK HE-WHO-MUST-NOT-BE-NAMED! SPAWN OF EVIL, HORRIBLE LITTLE SLUT— I HAVE WRITTEN THE BOARD OF GOVERNORS AND DEMANDED YOU BE TAKEN OUT OF SCHOOL, YOU WICKED BEAST!"_

All eyes were fixed on her, but Bethany didn't notice. Her eyes shut and she wished she could crawl underneath the table and cover her ears. The screechy voice let out insult after insult until the letter burst into flame.

An unusual silence fell over the Great Hall. Bethany opened her eyes to see a large part of the student body looking at her with expressions of horror, disgust, and shock.

"Bethany?" Padma had place a hand on her back. Her brown eyes were wide. Bethany felt as if she were about to vomit... this what people thought of her as, somebody evil and twisted...

"Here," Terry reached across the table, holding a handkerchief. Had Bethany been in higher spirits, she might have thought how odd it was that he had it, but she accepted it, holding it limply in her grasp. By this point, a number of the students had turned away and the Great Hall was filled with chattering once more, but Bethany was oblivious to this as she gripped the piece of cloth in her hands.

"Miss Riddle," Professor Snape's voice behind her caused Terry to jump.

"Yes?" She turned around, sniffling. It was then she realized why Terry had handed his handkerchief to her; she was crying.

Professor Snape wore a blank expression, but his dark eyes were concerned. "I think it might be best if you come to my office."

Bethany nodded. Anything to seek respite from the rest of the world that seemed so cruel to her.

Without another word to Terry or Padma, Bethany rose from the bench, gaze averted downward as she followed Professor Snape out of the Great Hall. Her heart pounded inside her chest and her palms were sweaty **.**

The halls were blessedly empty and she quickened her pace, not wishing to meet anybody and be subject to questioning. But she had only taken five steps before she heard the doors of the Great Hall open once more, and the air felt like it had been knocked out of her lungs. Who could it be? Yet another person who wanted to mock her? She didn't dare turn around.

"Draco, I think it might be best if you returned to the Great Hall," said Professor Snape.

"I want to come," Draco's voice said, and the footsteps hastened until he was standing beside her.

"Bethany?" Professor Snape gave her a questioning look.

She nodded. "He can come. It's alright."

"Very well." Professor Snape turn around again, and Bethany and Draco shuffled beside him in silence.

She was relieved when they had finally reached the dungeons and once the door to the potions classroom was closed, she let the stiffness in her shoulders release. She was always safe here.

"How are you feeling? Are you alright?" Professor Snape took his seat behind his desk.

Bethany shook her head, clenching her eyes shut. She would not cry.

"Professor, is there any way to track who sent it? Father might want to know," Draco elaborated.

"It is possible," said Professor Snape. He let out a sigh. "I shall not insult either of you by feigning ignorance of the dealings of the Dark Lord during the war. I confess that I have no memory of this, but if you were to write Lucius and ask about somebody named Cyril killed by Bellatrix Lestrange, he may be able to remember the incident. If not, I may be able to ask Dumbledore for his assistance."

"Who is Bellatrix Lestrange?" Bethany asked, throat feeling scratchy.

"My aunt," Draco said casually, as if they hadn't just stopped talking about a man she had murdered. "She's mother's oldest sister, but she's been in Azkaban for years."

"She was one of your father's favorite and closest servants," Professor Snape added. "She was particularly skilled in her usage of the Cruciatus curse. She is... notorious, I suppose, for that."

Bethany had a hard time reconciling that Narcissa, a woman who had treated her with nothing but kindness, could be related to somebody so brutal and ruthless. "Oh," was all she was able to manage in response.

"You needn't pay any mind to that Howler," Professor Snape continued, noting her melancholy. "I doubt anybody at Hogwarts with half a brain is under the deluded impression you would intentionally bring harm to Mr. Potter."

"But anyone who doesn't know me thinks that," she said lowly.

"Then it is their loss," said Professor Snape. "And they shall pay for their errors, one way or another."

Her blood ran cold. "What do you mean?" He has been a Death Eater, yes, but surely he had given up these proclivities?

"Father will see to them, of course," Draco proclaimed proudly, oblivious to Bethany's horror. "Just like how he stopped _Witch Weekly—"_

"I doubt Lucius will be the source of their misery," Professor Snape interrupted Draco, managing to silence him even though he spoke quietly. "The Dark Lord has been known to strike down those he feels speak unfavorably upon him."

This was not making her feel any better. In fact, she wanted nothing more than to get up and leave, but a petrifying numbness made her stay seated.

"You think he is returning as well?" Draco seemed giddy with excitement.

"I would be fool if I thought otherwise. All the signs point to his inevitable return. When it shall happen, I haven't the slightest idea."

"I hope it's soon—"

"Well, _I_ don't," Bethany snapped, glaring at Draco with an unmistakable expression of animosity. "So if you would kindly _shut up_ , I would appreciate it!"

Draco scowled, not taking any offense to her outburst. "You're still related to him, you know. When he comes back—"

"I don't want him to come back!" She leapt to her feet, anger gripping her. What didn't he understand about this? "He's horrible and foul and _awful_ , and I _hate_ him!" Without thinking, she reached for the nearest object on Professor Snape's desk (which happened to be a sizable paper weight), and flung it against the wall. The paperweight made a loud cracking sound as it struck the stone, and it fell to the ground, a fragment of glass having chipped off.

Bethany stared at the paperweight in horror, seeming to wake up from her fiery haze. _Oh Merlin..._ she had destroyed a professor's personal property... "I'm so sorry!" She choked out.

"Draco, I think it might be best if you were to take your leave."

Draco didn't say anything, but she heard several footsteps until he shut the door behind him. She turned to the Professor, who sat there with an indifferent expression. "I—"

"Don't fret," said Professor Snape, waving his wand and vanishing the paperweight away. "It was given to me by a rather dull student many years ago who thought I might raise their grades if they gave me a gift. I never liked it. You've done me a favor by breaking it."

His words did not wholly comfort her. "That's no excuse," she uttered. "I shouldn't have done it."

"Perhaps," said the Professor. "But then again, I should have sent Draco out sooner. I know how much you dislike speaking about your father, and Draco's views do not align with your own."

Bethany said nothing, her anger simmering beneath the surface. She refused to let it boil over again.

The professor sighed at her silence. "I shall remind Draco the next time I see him to mind his words."

"A fat lot of good that will do," She grumbled without thinking.

"He is opinionated, yes. But he has control over what he says—"

"Of course he has control," she said, gripping the arms of the chair with a frightful intensity. "He knows exactly what he is saying. He just— he doesn't _care._ He doesn't care if he hurts people's feelings, he doesn't care if it's horribly rude— he doesn't even care about whether or not it upsets me or not! And I'm _sick_ of it!" The words poured out of her mouth without stopping.

Professor Snape was quiet. "He has a lot of growing up to do. When the time comes, he shall see the gravity of the situation and be less inclined to a blind worship."

"Maybe." Her voice was clipped. "But I hope he'll see reason before it is too late."

A silence fell over the room.

* * *

June the twenty fourth had snuck up on all of them. Bethany woke earlier than usual; Harry (who did not have to sit through any exams) planned on enjoying a leisurely, late breakfast and Bethany (whose least favorite meal of the day was breakfast) planned to practice their defensive training before the exams began. Of course, that meant waking before the sun had even risen, but that was all well. Bethany expected she would sleep well that night, given the exhaustion that came with the exams and the excitement that would come once the Tournament finally came to an end.

Bethany and Harry met in the courtyard, where Harry disarmed Bethany several times, practiced summoning her textbooks, and, for good measure, cast his Patronous. As the silver stag danced about the courtyard, Bethany admires it in awe. "It's lovely... how on Earth do you do it?"

Harry, seeming bashful under her praise, shrugged and said, "You have to think of your happiest memory when you cast it. That's the hard part. Figuring out which memory makes you happiest."

Determined to at least try, Bethany steadied her stance and closed her eyes. What was her happiest memory? She thought of all the trips to Hogsmeade with her best friends. " _Expecto Patronum!"_ She opened her eyes, only to see nothing. Her shoulders fell with disappointment.

"It takes a long time to figure out," Harry said, seeming to sense this. "Don't feel bad."

Bethany smiled at him. What had she done to deserve a friend as wonderful as him? She felt a stirring of affection for the boy in front of her. A lump formed in her throat when she thought about the task he would have to compete in tonight. If only he could stay with and Ron and Hermione in the crowd, so that he could be safe...

"Do you think you're ready then?"

"I suppose so. As ready as I'll ever be." The grin on his face soothed her worry.

"I expect they'll be serving breakfast by now. Do you want to get some?"

Harry nodded and went to move when Bethany stood fixed in place. "What?"

"Just— Be careful. Please. Promise me you will be."

"I will," said Harry. He reached down the collar of his shirt, confiding Bethany until he revealed the cornicello she had given him the year before. "Besides, I have this. It's worked every other time."

Touched, Bethany felt happy tears spring to her eyes. She hadn't realized... "Come on," she said, voice sounding thick, "you need some breakfast. It's the most important meal of the day."

"You hate breakfast. I don't think I've ever seen you eat more than toast."

"Just because I have an aversion to it doesn't mean it changes science."

Bethany and Harry chattered with one another, making their way back to the Gryffindor Common Room first to drop off Harry's books. On their way to the Great Hall, they heard a voice yell, "Harry! _Harry!_ "

They turned around to see Dean Thomas, accompanied by Seamus Finnegan. As soon as Bethany spotted the _Daily Prophet_ in their hands, she knew Rita had struck again.

"It's really bad, Harry!" Dean was breathless as he handed it to Harry. "She's making it seem as you've gone off the deep end!"

_HARRY POTTER "DISTURBED AND DANGEROUS",_ the headline read. "Oh, joy," Harry muttered. "Looks as if she's gone off me."

"Thank you," Bethany said to the boys, hoping this would dismiss them. This article, she knew, had to be a million times worse than whatever had been published by _Witch Weekly_ , and she didn't care for an audience while she read it.

When Harry managed to choke out a farewell to the boys, they scrambled off, leaving Bethany and Harry. "How about we slip behind that tapestry?" She asked, nodding to the purple tapestry overhead with a young witch holding white flowers. Harry nodded, and they darted behind it.

" _Lumos,_ " said Harry, holding it over the paper. Their eyes scanned the words, each one seeming worse than the last.

Rita, it seemed, had grown to despise Harry, and was making a multitude of allegations, bringing up how he had collapsed the other day in Divination to his Parselmouth ability. Bethany was only mentioned in one paragraph: _It is my belief that Potter's instability may stem from his attachment to his girlfriend, Miss Riddle, the malevolent daughter of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. It is obvious that her influence on him has lead him down a dark, dangerous path. Is she plotting to murder him in a sacrifice to appease her fallen father? Or is she stringing Harry among so that he may serve the forces of evil? This teenage romance is beginning of what I fear will be the downfall of the wizarding world, if Albus Dumbledore does not put a stop to their scheming._

"You know," Bethany said, glaring down at the printed words with a blazing sort of anger, "it is a shame the wizarding population has such a small pool to draw from in terms of journalism, because I doubt this _rubbish_ would be allowed in a respectable paper!"

Harry, unperturbed by the article, gave her a curious look. "But there are tabloids in the Muggle world that are always making up stories about the Royal Family and celebrities. Surely you've seen them?"

"Of course I have. The fact is that this article is poorly written. Look at this!" Bethany jabbed at the word _malevolent._ "What did she do? Swallow a thesaurus?" When Harry grinned, she said, "And look! She's bringing up her _own_ opinions, when this is supposed to be a work of unbiased journalism! Honestly, she should be sacked! I could write an article better than this!"

"Maybe you should," Harry said, smiling at her. "You're one of the only people I've ever met who has actually liked writing essays. You could work for the _Prophet."_

Bethany looked down at the publication almost wistfully. "No, thanks. I wouldn't want to work for the fools who continue to employ someone who writes that dung. Besides," she continued, "if I were to publish anything, it would probably be branded as propaganda of the dark side, no matter what I was writing on."

"You're probably right," said Harry, a bit sadly. He took the paper from her hands, wadding it up into a ball, and tossing it away. Normally, Bethany would have told him off for littering, but she giggled instead. "C'mon, let's go."

They snuck out from behind the tapestry when Bethany saw a sight that made her stop cold. Fred and George were ambling past, but when they saw Bethany and Harry emerging, Fred let out a whistle. "Nice job, Harry!" He cheered.

"Getting a snog in before lunch, you lucky devil?" George joined in, taking delight in their expressions of mortification.

"It's not what you think!" Bethany insisted helplessly. "We were reading!"

"Is that what the kids are calling it these days?" Fred asked gleefully.

"No! We were reading the _Prophet—"_

"So where is it, then?" Fred countered, arching an eyebrow.

As Bethany stood there, stammering that Harry had thrown it out, the twins roared with laughter. "Don't worry, Bethany," George said. "We won't tell anyone, we're not like the Percy types. Have fun!" He winked, causing her face to turn red.

"But not _too_ much fun!" Fred added before they hurried away, both of them laughing hysterically.

"Merlin," Harry muttered under his breath.

"I've never been so _humiliated_ in my life," Bethany said dramatically, her voice sounding squeaky. Fred thought... _oh God._ How was she ever going to live this down?

* * *

After an hour of identifying plants with her hands caked in dirt, Bethany has washed them furiously before making her way to lunch. She met Ron and Hermione along the way, both having finished their History of Magic exam. "Bethany, do you remember the exact date that Ethelred made his first attack?" Hermione asked as they entered the Great Hall.

"I couldn't remember," she said honestly. "I know it was in the summer of 1409, so that's what I wrote. I didn't bother getting into specifics."

"See, you're worried about nothing, Hermione!" Ron insisted. "You did fine!"

She let out a huff. "Well, I wanted to examine his motivations, and since his mother died on February 11th of 1408, I wanted to—"

"Look!" Ron interrupted, ecstatic. "There's Mum and Bill!"

Indeed, Mrs. Weasley and Bill were seated across from Harry at the Gryffindor table, chatting away. Hermione and Bethany followed him as he made his way to them. "What are you doing here?"

"Come to watch Harry in the last task!" said Mrs. Weasley, smiling affectionately. "I must say, it makes a lovely change, not having to cook. How was your exam?"

"Oh... okay. Couldn't remember all the goblin rebels' names, so I invented a few. It's alright," he insisted as Mrs. Weasley threw a sharp glare at him. "they're all called stuff like Bodrod the Bearded and Urg the Unclean; it wasn't hard."

"How've your exams gone?" Bill asked Bethany and Hermione politely as Ginny joined the table, hugging Mrs. Weasley.

"Alright," said Bethany, feeling rather awkward. She hadn't spoken to Bill much when she had met him over the summer, and he was rather handsome. _But not as handsome as Fred,_ she thought. "I had my Herbology exam, I think it well okay."

"I had History of Magic with Ron," Hermione said, also seeming less certain than usual. "But I don't know how well I did on it."

"I'm sure you both did well," Bill told them with a smile, and Bethany felt as though she might swoon. "Ron always is telling me how smart you two are. He says without you, he'd be a wreck."

"He's smart, too," Bethany found herself saying. "He puts himself down too much. Maybe he isn't as interested in classes, but... he's smart." She trailed off, realizing she had been babbling.

Bill beamed. "I'm glad to know he has friends who care about him."

Before either girl could say anything, the twins appeared, greeting Bill as Mrs. Weasley fussed over Fred, whose tie was undone. George grinned at Bethany, and she felt her face grow warm, remembering the disastrous tapestry incident.

"Hermione," Harry Said, finally seeming to remember something, "are you going to tell us—?"

Hermione shook her head frantically, eying Mrs. Weasley. It was at that moment Mrs. Weasley noticed Bethany and Hermione sitting there, and fixed them each with cold looks. "Hello girls," she said with a tight smile. Bethany felt her stomach drop.

"Mrs. Weasley, you didn't believe that rubbish Rita Skeeter wrote in Witch Weekly, did you? Because Bethany isn't my girlfriend, and neither is Hermione. They never have been." Before Mrs. Weasley could say anything, he said, "And Bethany isn't evil, either."

Bethany shot him a grateful look as Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, "Oh! No, of course I didn't!"

Lunch concluded shortly thereafter, with Mrs. Weasley kindly asking Hermione and Bethany about their exams and other idle topics. Bethany still had to go to Charms before she was finished; while it wasn't her best subject, it wasn't her worst either, and Professor Flitwick liked her.

By the end of the day, Bethany's mind was frazzled; Charms had gone well, if Professor Flitwick's grin was anything to go on, but she had struggled to remain focussed during Defense; Moody had paced back and forth across the room, causing her nerves to skyrocket.

She elected to spend her dinner with the Gryffindors that evening instead of with Padma and Terry— she hoped they would understand, considering the fact that Harry was one of her best friends. He didn't seem as nervous as she thought he might be. The day with Mrs. Weasley and Bill must have done him some good for him. She supposed that in many ways the Weasleys were to Harry what the Malfoys were to her. Of course, it was undeniable that the Weasleys were far kinder than the Malfoys, but that was neither here nor there.

As the Third Task approached, Bethany's anxiety grew. Suppose something were to happen to Harry? Harry, the boy she had gone to the Yule Ball with, the boy who understood the crushing reality of being an orphan with no family of his own... her best friend.

As the feast began reaching it's conclusion, Dumbledore stood at the front of the hall. "Ladies and gentlemen, in five minutes' time, I will be asking you to make your way down to the Quidditch field for the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament. Will the champions please follow Mr. Bagman down to the stadium now?"

Before Harry could rise, Bethany found herself pulling him into a tight hug. She gave little thought to how this action might be perceived by anyone else, nor did she care. "Good luck, Harry," she whispered.

"Thanks, Beth," he replied as quietly before rising.

"Don't worry," Hermione murmured, through there was apprehension in her eyes. "He'll be alright."

But even as Bethany entered the Quidditch pitch, there was a distinct feeling of dread in her stomach. The dusk was turning into night, and thick clouds hovered above their heads. Harry was standing in between Viktor Krum and Cedric Diggory. "Good luck," Bethany said squeakily (much to her chagrin), as she passed by all four champions.

Only Harry and Cedric seemed to hear, Harry turning around to grin while Cedric beamed brilliant, and said, "Thank you!" _He really is very nice,_ Bethany thought, sitting beside Ron.

Bagman took up his announcing duties once more as he said, "Ladies and gentlemen, the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament is about to begin! Let me remind you how the points currently stand! Tied in first place, with eighty-five points each— Mr. Cedric Diggory and Mr. Harry Potter, both of Hogwarts School!" The entire Hogwarts student body cheered loudly. "In second place, with eighty points - Mr. Viktor Krum, of Durmstrang Institute!" The applause for him was significantly more subdued, but Hermione clapped loudly. "And in third place - Miss Fleur Delacour, of Beauxbatons Academy!" Bethany clapped for Fleur, who she still felt rather sorry for.

Harry, having spotted where they were in the stands, waved. They waved back, grinning at him.

"So on my whistle, Harry and Cedric! One... two... three!" A piercing whistle sounded, and Harry and Cedric advanced into the maze, wands drawn. Shortly afterwards, Viktor went in, then Fleur.

Much like the second task, this ended up being a rather dull thing to watch. Bethany gossiped with Ron and Hermione, answered Mrs. Weasley's most pressing questions, and kept looking out at the gigantic maze. The most interesting thing of conversation to take place, was when Mrs. Weasley commented, "That Fleur Delacour girl even prettier in person. I had only seen pictures of her."

"There's more to life than looks," said Bill. "After all, she had to have some wits about her to make it into the competition. I bet there's more to her than what meets the eye. Ron," he said, changing the subject, "how's Hagrid doing? I heard he's the professor of Care of Magical Creatures now. I bet he loves that—"

The sky was dark when finally Harry and Cedric appeared from the maze. Cedric has flopped onto the ground, and Harry—

"He's done it!" Bethany screamed, jumping up and down with the rest of Hogwarts, thrilled in their victory. "Harry won!"

But upon closer examination, and as teachers approached Harry, she saw he was crying. She stopped cheering, watching the scene as best she could. Cedric, much to her horror, was not relaxing, but totally limp. His eyes were unblinking, mouth slack.

"My boy!" Amos Diggory let out a heart wrenching shout. "My boy!" He dropped down beside Cedric, who stared up at the night's sky, not comprehending his father's presence.

Even if the murmurings and shouts of the crowd hadn't confirmed it, Bethany knew that Cedric Diggory was dead.


	23. Chapter 23

**Momento** **Mori**

**Chapter Twenty Two: Same Sovereign Cruelty**

In her fourteen years of life, Bethany had seen awful things. When she was a small child, she had discovered a dead bird at the orphanage and had ran from the sight in tears. When she was nine, a boy on the playground had broken his arm in three places after he had fallen off the monkey bars. She had been frightened for a week, horrified by the sight of his arm bent in that unnatural manner. But the sight of the corpse of Cedric Diggory cradled in his father's embrace was by far the worst thing she had ever seen. Mr. Diggory was sobbing, and Mrs. Diggory stared down at her son in abject horror, as if she could not believe he was gone.

It had to be a bad dream. Any moment now, she would awake in her bed... but it seemed to go on and on. Cho Chang has buried her head in Marietta Edgecombe's shoulder to shroud herself from the sight before them. Cornelius Fudge was by the... _the body_ and Harry...

"Bethany." The voice of Professor Snape was behind her, but she hardly registered his presence. "You must come with me immediately."

She nodded, rising to her feet. She was oblivious to the terror filled looks Ron and Hermione gave one another. She followed Professor Snape out of the arena, a horrid, dreadful feeling filling her.

By the time they reached Professor Snape's office, she felt close to tears. Cedric Diggory... he was dead. How? She had just seen him standing there with Harry, alive and well. He'd even said _thank you_ to her... he was only seventeen years old.

"He's back," Professor Snape was solemn. He didn't even have to clarify who it was he was speaking of; the Dark Lord required no introduction.

"No," Bethany whispered, but it sounded like a scream in her mind. It couldn't be... not so soon, she had years to prepare for it yet...

"I wish it were not so." Bethany felt as though a heavy weight had come to rest on her lungs. Each breath was laborious, and she felt like the world was crumbling to pieces all around her. "You must be in shock," Professor Snape's voice sounded alarmed. "Here— hold on." Moments later, a green bottle was shoved into her hands. "Drink this. You'll feel better."

She did as he said, and with each gulp she was relieved that it wasn't as awful as it could be. There was a bitterness to it, but it tasted of honey and elderberries. "A Calming Solution?" She asked, presenting the bottle to him.

He nodded. "You were settling into a panic— didn't you notice how shaky your hands were?"

Bethany shook her head. "Well... no matter." Professor Snape folded his hands behind his back. "The time has come to employ everything I have taught you. Now that he has made his return, I am suspecting her shall wish to have a more... involved role in your life. You must be on guard at all times, and do not let your emotions get the best of you. He shall try and provoke you by asking questions about Harry Potter, but you must not—"

The door was thrown open, revealing no other than Dumbledore. "Severus, come quickly! Bring a vial of Veritaserum! Now!"

Professor Snape raced over to his cabinet, producing a vial of a clear liquid. _Veritaserum_... that was a potion that compelled one to share the truth. "Come with me, Bethany," Professor Snape ordered. "You mustn't be left alone."

Bethany followed him hurriedly, reaching into her pocket for her wand. She followed behind Professor Snape who was now behind Professor Dumbledore. "Where's Minerva?" Professor Snape asked and Bethany realized with a start that he was referring to Professor McGonagall.

"Fetching a house elf and a dog for me," Professor Dumbledore responded, but it didn't lessen the urgency of his movements. "Good evening, Miss Riddle. I take it you shall be accompanying us?"

"I felt it best she not be left alone—"

"And right you were, Severus," Dumbledore said as they raced up a stairwell. "In any case, I do think Harry will be pleased to see you."

Before Bethany think to ask him what he meant, she realized that he had lead them to Professor Moody's office door, waving his wand only to blast the door down. " _Stupefy_!"

Bethany, trailing Professor Snape like a shadow, stepped into the room to see Professor Moody, sprawled face down on the floor. Harry was inside the office, visibly shaken, was staring up at Professor Dumbledore kicked Moody so that he faced upwards.

"Professor," Harry stammered, "It was Moody... he put my name in the Goblet... how could it be Moody?"

Bethany's eyes widened. Had the situation been less severe, it would have been a wonderful opportunity for her to gloat about how she had never trusted the man, but she was just as stunned when Professor Dumbledore quietly said, "That is not Alastor Moody. You have never known Alastor Moody. The real Moody would not have removed you from my sight after what happened tonight. The moment he took you, I knew— and I followed."

What followed passed like blur. The real Moody, as it turned out, was being kept inside a heavy trunk, weak and under the influence of the Imperius curse. Professor Dumbledore handed Moody's flask to Professor Snape, who poured it across the desk. "You recognize this potion, do you not?" Professor Snape asked her.

Bethany stared down at the potion, which seemed to have congealed. That was usually a side effect of a potion in which the lace wings hadn't been boiled for nearly as long as they should have... "It's Polyjuice potion, sir," Bethany said, eyeing the frozen frame of the imposter Moody. "So—"

"That is how he been disguising himself," Professor Dumbledore interrupted. "A very astute observation, Miss Riddle. Of course, the longevity of a Polyjuice potion is slim compared to others... My guess is that our imposter may have forgotten to take his last dosage."

Several minutes seemed to pass by before Moody's features began shifting and changing. His scraggly grey hair turned to short blond, the scars on his face disappeared, skin growing paler. Within seconds, a man of roughly thirty years of age was laying on the floor.

"Crouch," Professor Snape breathed, eyes not moving from the man. "Barty Crouch!"

It was at precise moment Professor McGonagall reentered the room, this time with Winky the house elf. "Good heavens!" She gasped.

"Master Barty, Master Barty, what is you doing here?" Winky had thrown herself upon Barty Crouch's chest before screeching, "You is killed him! You is killed him! You is killed Master's son!"

"He is simply Stunned, Winky," said Dumbledore. "Step aside, please. Severus, you have the potion?"

Wordlessly, Professor Snape handed the potion over to the headmaster. Three drops were administered before Professor Dumbledore muttered, " _Ennervate."_

Barty Crouch Jr. opened his eyes. Bethany was startled by how blue they were, even from a distance. She suspected that the dim lighting of the room made them darker than what they truly were.

"Can you hear me?"

"Yes," Barty rasped.

"I would like you to tell us," Dumbledore requested, "how you came to be here. How did you escape from Azkaban?"

The story that followed was sensational, with Barty detailing an elaborate scheme in which he and his mother had swapped places through the use of Polyjuice potion. Mr. Crouch had been hiding his son for nearly decade underneath an Invisibility Cloak and controlled him with the Imperius curse. Winky, it seemed, had taken care of him, and the more he revealed, the harder she cried.

He revealed that he had been the one to cast the Dark Mark at the Quidditch World Cup in order to make the free Death Eaters atone for their crime of freedom. "Then my Master came for me," he said, eyes flickering onto Bethany. "My master knew that I was still his faithful servant— perhaps the most faithful of all. My master conceived a plan, based upon the information Bertha had given him. He needed me. He arrived at our house near midnight. My father answered the door..." he trailed off and grinned as Winky let out a howl.

"It was very quick. My father was placed under the Imperius Curse by my master. Now my father was the one imprisoned, controlled. My master forced him to go about his business as usual, to act as though nothing was wrong. And I was released. I awoke. I was myself again, alive as I hadn't been in years."

"And what did Lord Voldemort ask you to do?" asked Dumbledore.

"He asked me whether I was ready to risk everything for him. I was ready. It was my dream, my greatest ambition, to serve him, to prove myself to him. He told me he needed to place a faithful servant at Hogwarts. A servant who would guide Harry Potter through the Triwizard Tournament without appearing to do so. A servant who would watch over Harry Potter... and of course, his darling daughter." His lips curled upward, eyes flickering over to Bethany. She shuddered. "He needed somebody to ensure Harry Potter would reach the final task of the Tournament in time, someone who could also send him reports on Bethany's welfare— her interests, her hobbies, who her friends were... But first—"

"You needed Alastor Moody," Dumbledore finished.

 _He's mad_ , Bethany thought, as he shared how he and Peter Pettigrew had captured the real Alastor Moody with zeal. His eyes shone with glee as he described, to her revulsion, how he had murdered his own father on the grounds of Hogwarts and buried him. He had absolutely no shame for the crimes he had committed; in fact, he sounded _pleased_ to have accomplished it.

Once he had concluded his disturbing tale, Dumbledore turned away, face stony. "Minerva, could I ask you to stand guard here while I take Harry upstairs?"

"Of course." The professor's skin had taken on a sickly pallor, but she pointed her wand at Barty Crouch Jr. He seemed unfazed, grinning maniacally. He caught Bethany's eye for the briefest of seconds and grinned even wider, causing her to hide behind Professor Snape's tall figure as best as she possibly could.

"Severus, please tell Madam Pomfrey to come down here; we need to get Alastor Moody into the hospital wing," Dumbledore now said to Professor Snape. "Then go down into the grounds, find Cornelius Fudge, and bring him up to this office. He will undoubtedly want to question Crouch himself. Tell him I will be in the hospital wing in half an hour's time if he needs me." Professor Snape nodded, and Bethany, uncertain of what to do, walked towards him.

"Miss Riddle," Professor Dumbledore addressed her, "I think it might be best if you accompany Harry and I. No doubt you will wish to hear Harry's account of what happened this evening, and I suspect he would appreciate the company of a dear friend at this time."

"Of course," said Bethany, striding across the room so that she was standing by Harry, who was seated in a chair. He rose to stood, but swayed in place, wincing. Without a second thought, Bethany pulled him to his feet. "Lean on me, if you have to," she told him.

Harry nodded, jaw clenched. His entire body seemed to tremble— whether it was because of physical pain or mental anguish, she had no idea. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, using her as a crutch. _It's either his foot or leg,_ she thought as they limped over to Dumbledore, who was standing in the doorway. She also noted a deep, jagged cut in his forearm, blood staining his skin.

"I want you to come up to my office first, Harry," said Dumbledore quietly as they began walking through the passageway. "Sirius is waiting for us there."

"But sir, he's hurt," Bethany protested. "He can hardly stand up."

Professor Dumbledore, while still solemn, gave her a kind look. "As soon as I am finished asking Harry for his account of the tale, we shall head straight to the hospital wing. I do not wish for him to suffer anymore than he needs to after what he has gone through tonight."

Bethany opened her mouth to insist he be seen to, but Harry mumbled, "I'll fine. It doesn't hurt that much anymore."

Bethany suspected he was lying, but didn't press on. She merely nodded, guiding Harry as they walked behind Professor Dumbledore. "Sir, where are Mr. and Mrs. Diggory?" Harry asked quietly, hardly opening his mouth.

He inhaled deeply. "They are with Professor Sprout," said Dumbledore, voice shaking. The very sound made Bethany want to burst into tears. Dumbledore, the most powerful wizard in the world, was frightened. "She was head of Cedric's house, and knew him best."

They reached the stone gargoyles in front of Dumbledore's office. "Peppermint Imps." The hidden staircase revealed itself. Bethany and Harry hobbled up the stairs into Professor Dumbledore's office. Bethany couldn't help but think that, in spite of wizard's aversion to Muggle advancements, perhaps an elevator should be installed for purposes like this. She was only halfway through a thought when they reached the office. Sirius was pacing the floors, disheveled and pale. As soon as he spotted Harry, he had run across the room.

"Harry, are you all right? I knew it— I knew something like this— what happened?" His grey eyes darted all over Harry— his arms, his legs, his scar, before he frantically asked, "What happened?"

Dumbledore began sharing Barty Crouch's tale, while Harry began slumping against Bethany. Knowing that his leg was likely bothering him, Bethany tugged him along until they reached the chairs by Dumbledore's large desk, setting him down in it. "Better?" She asked. He only responded with a nod.

The sound of flapping wings caused Bethany to look up. Fawkes, Dumbledore's majestic Phoenix, had flown in through an open window. Spying Harry, the bird perched himself on his knee, beady black eyes wide open. "'Lo Fawkes," Harry muttered to him, reaching out to pet the bird.

Bethany realized then, with a start, that the last time she had been in this room, it had been after the events in the Chamber of Secrets. Fawkes had come to their rescue then...

"Harry," Dumbledore's voice interjected, causing Bethany to pry herself away from her musings. He had stopped speaking with Sirius, already sitting behind his desk. "I need to know what happened after you touched the Portkey in the maze."

"We can leave that till morning, can't we Dumbledore?" Sirius stood on the opposite side of Harry with a hand on his shoulder. "Let him have his sleep. Let him have his rest."

"If I thought I could help you by putting you into an enchanted sleep and allowing you to postpone the moment when you would have to think about what has happened tonight, I would do it," Dumbledore interrupted, speaking solely to Harry. "But I know better. Numbing the pain for a while will make it worse when you finally feel it. You have shown bravery beyond anything I could have expected of you. I ask you to demonstrate your courage one more time. I ask you to tell us what happened."

Fawkes chose at that moment to sing out a mournful yet beautiful note, as if imploring Harry to do as Dumbledore had said. Harry stared at the bird before nodding once. "Take as long as you need to," said Dumbledore gently.

Sirius, who had seemed to just notice Bethany's presence, said, "Sit down, Bethany," as he nodded to the second chair. "You look exhausted."

Now that he mentioned it, Bethany realized that there was a foreign weight in her bones. She gave him a small, grateful smile before taking her place. She noted that this was the seat Harry had sat in when she had been interrogated about being the Heir of Slytherin.

And Harry opened his mouth and spoke. He and Cedric has grabbed the Cup, which had been turned into a Portkey, and had whisked them away to a graveyard in the small town of Little Hangleton. Cedric had been killed instantly for being a "spare", and Peter Pettigrew had tied Harry up to the gravestone belonging to Tom Riddle— her Muggle grandfather— for Pettigrew to cut him with a dagger and use his blood to resurrect her father. That, she thought, wasn't even the most repulsive part of the resurrection process, but it was the part that filled her with the most horror. Death Eaters had appeared, and Bethany didn't even need Harry to confirm Lucius had been present. There had been a duel, and Harry had escaped...

After a brief discussion over the effects of _Priori Incantatum_ (something that Bethany planned to investigate as soon as she could), Dumbledore said, "I will say it again. You have shown bravery beyond anything I could have expected of you tonight. Harry. You have shown bravery equal to those who died fighting Voldemort at the height of his powers. You have shouldered a grown wizard's burden and found yourself equal to it— and you have now given us all we have a right to expect. You will come with me to the hospital wing. I do not want you returning to the dormitory tonight. A Sleeping Potion, and some peace... Sirius, would you like to stay with him?"

Sirius didn't even respond verbally, simply nodding before turning into a large black dog.

"Miss Riddle, you are free to come with Harry to the Hospital Wing or return to the Ravenclaw Tower," said Professor Dumbledore kindly. "I understand that you must be distressed from tonight's revelations."

Bethany nodded. A part of her longed to ask Dumbledore if it would be possible for her to stay over the summer holidays— she could say it was an apprenticeship with Professor Snape or something like that— but when she remembered Tom Riddle sauntering Into this very room to request the same of his own headmaster, she dismissed the idea quickly. _I'm not like him,_ she thought resolutely.

When realized Dumbledore was waiting for an answer, she said, "I'd like to come with Harry, sir. Unless you don't want me to," she added hastily, speaking to Harry.

"Of course you can come." Harry, in spite of his lethargic nature, seemed surprised she would ask such a question.

"Then let us sojourn there," Dumbledore said, sounding more like himself than he had the entire night.

When Dumbledore pushed open the doors to the Hospital Wing, the Weasleys were huddled inside with Hermione, all of them jabbering as they demanded Madame Pomfrey to tell them where Harry was. As soon as Mrs. Weasley saw Harry, she let out a high pitched noise before rushing over to embrace Harry before Dumbledore stopped her, quietly explaining that Harry had gone through a great deal of trauma. "If he would like you all to stay with him, you may do so. But I do not want you questioning him until he is ready to answer, and certainly not this evening. I am sure that if there are any _pressing_ questions, Miss Riddle will be more than happy to divulge them, as long as she feels they are appropriate questions."

Bethany nodded, as if to affirm his words.

Harry dressed into a pair of flannel pinstriped pajamas behind the security of a screen before crawling into his bed. Bethany sat in the chair closest to him, resting a hand on his bedside. Hermione was beside her, Ron mirroring her on Harry's other side. Bill was pulling up two more chairs as Mrs. Weasley fussed over Harry's sheets. Madame Pomfrey arrived with a purple potion, instructing Harry to drink it all. "It's a potion for dreamless sleep," she explained.

Harry had only taken two gulps before his eyelids fell shut and his arms grew limp. Before he could spill the potion all over himself, Bethany reached out and caught his wrist in one hand and pulled the vial from his fingers with the other. "Thank you, Miss Riddle," said Madame Pomfrey as she handed it back.

As the matron's footsteps faded, Mrs. Weasley reaches out to brush a strand of hair away from Harry's forehead, proudly displaying his lightening bolt scar. "That poor boy," she said in a thick voice, sounding close to tears. She sniffled before demanding, "Hasn't he been through enough?"

Bethany wondered the same thing. Why did Harry have to suffer? Fate had been so unkind to him already; it was unfair that he should be doomed to lifetime of torment. Tears sprang to her eyes as she looked down at him. He seemed so peaceful in sleep... one would never know what he had gone through if it weren't for the scrapes and dirt smudged all over his skin and robes...

"What happened?" Bill finally asked, seeming confident that Harry was in a deep enough slumber that he would not be disturbed by the questions. Four pairs of eyes zeroed in on her, desperate for an answer.

"He... he'd back. My... the Dark Lord is back."

Mrs. Weasley let out a gasp. "He can't be! That isn't possible!"

"But it is!" Bethany snapped, and immediately felt guilty for lashing out at a woman who had always been kind to her, even when she had no reason to be. "I'm sorry!"

"Mum is just shocked," Bill explained, speaking carefully. "As are the rest of us. Do you know how?"

Bethany nodded. "I'll... I think Harry has better tell you. I don't think I can stomach to repeat it. It... it was gruesome," she explained, and Hermione mouth fell open before she quickly closed it. "But the Cup was a Portkey— Professor Moody was actually Barty Crouch Jr, a Death Eater, but I'll get to that later, and he was here to make sure Harry would have to compete... anyway, the Portkey brought Harry and Cedric to a cemetery in the town where— it doesn't matter which town," she said hastily, not missing the looks from Ron and Hermione which clearly said " _You'll tell us later,"_ "and Cedric was killed by...him, and then a bunch of Death Eaters showed up. Harry had to duel him, but his parents and Cedric and Bertha Jorkins showed up like ghosts... Dumbledore said it was something like _Priori Incantatum—_ oh!" She exclaimed, "and a gardener appeared too— Harry said that— well I guess it doesn't matter, but he managed to escape with Cedric."

Sirius, who had opted to lay at Bethany's feet, made a whining noise, as if urging her to stop her disjointed rambling. "Goodness! What on Earth is this dog doing here?" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed.

"This is Padfoot," Ron said quickly. "He's... uh, Hagrid's new dog. He really likes Harry," he added.

Mrs. Weasley frowned, as if she didn't quite believe Ron's explanation, but nodded nonetheless.

Bill wisely chose not to ask her anymore questions, and the group fell silent once more, lost in their own thoughts. There was plenty to think about... and plenty that Bethany didn't want to think about. She wished she had a book to read, something that could transport her away from this nightmarish world she was living in.

Half an hour had passed by in relative silence before the door was thrown open. "Poppy!" It was Professor Snape, pale faced and stricken. "It's Minerva— prepare a bed for her—"

Before anyone in their group could vocalize their thoughts, the voice of Cornelius Fudge exclaimed through the doorway, "Absolutely preposterous! Really, Dumbledore— I can hardly believe you would order only a _single_ teacher to watch over a dangerous criminal—"

Bill was standing up now and Mrs. Weasley was rising to her feet as well. Bethany's gaze flickered down to Harry, whose face was contorting. "They'll wake him if they don't shut up!" She said quietly to Ron, who had also realized Harry's rest was being disturbed.

"What are they shouting about?" Hermione asked, gnawing on her low lip. "You don't think— you don't think Mr. Crouch's son killed McGonagall, do you?" She sounded close to tears.

"No," Ron replied instantly. "There's no way. She's too tough... I don't think even You-Know-Who could kill..." He stopped when he noticed the look crossing Bethany's face.

The doors were thrown open a second time, this time with Dumbledore holding Professor McGonagall in his arms bridal style. Her limbs were slack, but she opened and closed her eyes sluggishly, much to Bethany's immense relief.

"Poppy, she's suffered a blow to the head," Dumbledore said lowly, ignoring Fudge's raving. "She was struck with a spell and thrown against a wall."

"Are you even listening to me?" Fudge demanded. His eyes were blazing. "I ought to have you sacked! A criminal has _escaped_ —"

Bethany gaped. No... he couldn't have escaped... the idea of Barty Crouch roaming free was terrifying.

"Perhaps such an unfortunate incident would have never occurred had you not chose to bring a Dementor into the castle!" Dumbledore replied sharply. "Surely, if you had merely chosen to interrogate him, as I had suggested—"

"How was I supposed to know Crouch could produce a corporeal Patronous?" Fudge shouted. "If there had been more faculty members surrounding him, we would have been able to contain him! I would have tried to stop, only he knocked me down as well!" His face as grown red, and gulped in air to regain his composure. "There was no need to interrogate him! We did all the interrogating we needed to at his trial!" Fudge blustered. "He was a lunatic, that much was clear! He was threat to society!"

"Barty Crouch, regardless of his mental state, possessed vital knowledge regarding the whereabouts and dealing of Lord Voldemort!"

The very name sent a chill down her spine, and the Weasleys and Hermione winced. Harry, who had been roused by their shouting, was sitting upright in the bed, glasses askew and hair messy.

Fudge, however, seemed nonplussed. Scoffing, he said, "Really, Dumbledore? I would have thought you wiser than to believe the ramblings of a deluded fool! V...Vol... You-Know-Who has been dead for over a decade now!"

"Harry Potter witnessed his rebirth, Cornelius," Dumbledore said in a level voice. "He has provided a full account of the tale to me. I will explain it all to you if you will step up to my office." When Dumbledore had noticed Harry was now wide awake, he added, "I am afraid I cannot permit you to question Harry tonight."

Fudge's angry expression had faded, replaced by an unusual, almost amused smile. "You are prepared to believe that Lord Voldemort has returned, on the word of a lunatic murderer, and a boy who...well..." he trailed off, letting out a small laugh.

Bethany gripped the arms of her chair tightly. How dare he? How _dare_ he imply Harry was making this up for attention or some evil mastermind? Dumbledore's expression darkened as he said, "You've been reading Rita Skeeter, Mr. Fudge."

Fudge grew red but tilted his chin up in defiance. "So what if I have? I'm smart enough to pick apart fact from fiction, I think. Obviously that rubbish about that girl living with the Malfoys is false— Lucius has assured me of that— but all this business about _headaches_ and pains in the forehead and Parselmouths disturbs me very much, Dumbledore. The fact you have been keeping this information secret is _very_ troubling."

"Lucius Malfoy is one of the Death Eaters who was with Voldemort tonight!" Harry yelled. Fudge gaped at him, seeming surprised that Harry was actually making an attempt to defend himself. "I can give you all of their names!"

"Malfoy was cleared!" Fudge barked. "A very old family— donations to excellent causes and a wonderful Ministry employee—"

"Macnair!" Harry continued.

"Also cleared and working for the Ministry!"

"Avery, Nott, Crabbe, Goyle—!" Harry listed off, growing red in the face.

"You are merely repeating the names of those who were acquitted of being Death Eaters thirteen years ago!" said Fudge angrily. "You could have found those names in old reports of the trials! For heavens sake, Dumbledore— the boy was full of some crackpot story at the end of last year too— his tales are getting taller, and you're still swallowing them— the boy can talk to snakes. Dumbledore, and you still think he's trustworthy?"

Bethany— whose fury was mounting— glared at Fudge with an intensity. Dumbledore continued to defend Harry, but Bethany wasn't paying attention to his words, all senses number under the weight of her anger.

Suddenly, as if a gust of wind had swept through the hospital wing, Fudge was knocked flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling. The arguing ceased. Dumbledore offered the gobsmacked Minister a hand as he helped him to his feet. Bethany said nothing, internally horrified. Mrs. Weasley whispered something to Bill, seeming oblivious to who might have done such a thing.

Fudge's wise eyes locked on Harry. "There! You see! Potter just shoved me down!" He jabbed a finger at Harry. "You have an awful lot of nerve, boy—!"

"I did it!" Bethany interjected, terrified of the potential consequences. "I'm very sorry, sir, I didn't mean to, only... I don't like it when people speak ill of my friends. Harry is one of the best people I know, sir. He wouldn't..." she trailed off, growing shy under the eyes that had settled themselves upon her.

Fudge, looking deeply uncomfortable, cleared his throat. "Ah, I see. Well, I accept your apology— but don't worry! I wasn't hurt, after all!" His jovial grin returned momentarily. Bethany fear dissipated once and turned into anger once more. _What a hypocrite!_

"Since Potter's credibility is being called into question," Professor Snape started, walking towards the Minister, "I find I may have something to add to the conversation." Now, as he stood beside the Minister, he rolled back his sleeve, displaying his Dark Mark, its inky black lines contrasting his sallow skin. "There. The Dark Mark. It is not as clear as it was an hour or so ago, when it burned black, but you can still see it. Every Death Eater had the sign burned into him by the Dark Lord. It was a means of distinguishing one another, and his means of summoning us to him. When he touched the Mark of any Death Eater, we were to Disapparate, and Apparate, instantly, at his side. This Mark has been growing clearer all year. Karkaroff's too. Why do you think Karkaroff fled tonight? We both felt the Mark burn. We both knew he had returned. Karkaroff fears the Dark Lord's vengeance. He betrayed too many of his fellow Death Eaters to be sure of a welcome back into the fold."

Fudge backed away from Professor Snape as if the professor had threatened him. "I don't know what you and your staff are playing at, Dumbledore, but I have heard enough. I have no more to add. I will be in touch with you tomorrow, Dumbledore, to discuss the running of this school. I must return to the Ministry." He reaches inside his coat before pulling out a bulging bag, tied with a yellow string, and dropped it unceremoniously at the foot of Harry's bed. "Your winnings. One thousand Galleons. There should have been a presentation ceremony, but under the circumstances..." He glances over to Bethany, adopting a friendlier demeanor. "Be sure to give Lucius my regards."

"You'll be seeing him sooner than I will be, sir," Bethany pointed out before mentally adding, _you idiot._

"Right. Of course." Fudge placed the bowler hat atop his head before leaving the hospital wing, slamming the door behind him. It reminded Bethany of sulking teenagers on soap operas who hadn't gotten their way. Needless to say, she was not displeased to see the Minister go.

* * *

Somehow, when Bethany awoke from her fitful slumber, neck stiff from falling asleep in the wooden chair beside Harry's bed, she knew today was the day she would meet her father properly. The thought, which should have terrified her, was numbed by the exhaustion that came with only sleeping for a scant two hours.

The rest of the day passed in a daze. There was feast where Dumbledore gave a touching toast to Cedric, Hermione revealed on the train ride home that Rita Skeeter was an unregistered Animagus, and Fred and George told them that Ludo Bagman has swindled them out of their money— but Bethany couldn't muster an ounce of emotion. Apathy seemed her constant companion, a shadow coloring over her demeanor.

Bethany gave her friends their obligatory farewell hugs, oblivious to their concerned looks as she merely mumbled her goodbyes to each of them. Harry was the last one to receive his hug, and he noticed it was tighter than usual before she walked away, meeting the Malfoys.

"Bethany!" Narcissa pulled her into an embrace. "There is a visitor at home waiting for you," she whispered in her ear before releasing her.

Bethany, who up until now, had been unaffected by the world around her, felt as if her stomach had filled with lead. The dread that had been absent before flooded her. Her heart beat quickened

"Draco!" Narcissa cried as her son strolled up to Lucius, looking haughty as ever.

As the Malfoys chattered eagerly on the platform, Bethany tried to stabilize her breathing. She wasn't ready, she wasn't ready, _she wasn't ready, why didn't they understand—?_

Before long, Narcissa was placing a hand on Bethany's arm and they had Apparated away from the platform, standing in front of Malfoy Manor. Nausea seized her, and she gulped in air and closed her eyes, hoping she wouldn't vomit, not right now...

"Bethany?" It was Lucius, sounding concerned. "Are you—?"

"I'm fine," she found herself lying. "It's just... the Apparition."

She opened her eyes, forcing herself to pull herself together. In a mimicry of the confidence the Malfoys seemed to emanate, she rolled her shoulders back and stared straight ahead, carrying Khione's cage as they walked through the gates and towards the front door.

But each step she took felt like a march to her own doom. Soon, she was hunched over, mouth dry as they entered the atrium of the Manor. "Batty! Take the children's trunks up to their rooms!" Lucius requested as the elf appeared.

"I'm not a child, Father!" Draco insisted as Bethany slinked over to the stairwell, hoping to climb up and hide in her bedroom unnoticed.

Draco's squabbling served as an excellent distraction until Narcissa noticed her stepping into the fifth step. "Bethany, where are you going? You have a _guest_ —"

"I'm not feeling well right now," Bethany said, now aware that all the Malfoys eyes were fixed on her. "The Apparation... I need to lay down for a while... I'm really dizzy," she lied, scrambling up the stairs before she could be interrogated anymore, ignoring Lucius as he loudly demanded she come back.

Once she had found respite inside her bedroom, she collapsed on her bed. No, she needed more time... she wasn't ready for this yet...

She contented herself by staring at her ceiling, dark as the room was bathed in dusk. There was a pounding in her head, behind her eyes. She closed her eyes, just for a minute...

A knock on her door caused her to snap up. The room was darker than it had been before. Everything came back to her in that moment... Oh, God, what if he was outside her bedroom door now? She wasn't ready! "Who is it?"

"It's me." It was Draco, his voice muffled through the door.

"Come in," She said, and the door swung open before he stepped inside.

"It's dark in here."

"A very astute observation," she said dryly as he turned on one of her lamps, squeezing her eyes shut as she was momentarily blinded by the harsh light.

Draco walked around her room silently, as if taking in the surrounding for the first time, even though he must have been in this room dozens of times. He strolled last her book shelf before picking up _A Midsummer Night's Dream,_ inspecting it. "Is this actually any good?"

"I don't know," she confessed. "I haven't read it yet. It probably is, though."

Draco placed it back in its proper place, eyes scanning over each book with a scrutiny Bethany had never seen from him before. Finally, he said, "You should probably hide these."

Bethany blinked. "Why?"

"Do you really think your father'll like seeing you've got a collection of Muggle books in your room?" Draco arched an eyebrow. "I daresay he'd burn them if he finds them, if any of Father's stories are to be believed."

Bethany felt a shiver travel down her spine. The worst part was that she couldn't contradict him... he probably was right. "Where should I put them, then?"

He shrugged. "Scatter them about. Take some to Hogwarts when we go back. Maybe tuck them in the bottom of your trunk, or under your mattress."

Bethany nodded, mulling over the thought and oddly grateful. At least he hadn't suggested she get rid of them... "Thanks," she said, rising to her feet.

"You don't have to do it now," he said, acting surprised when she stepped in front of the bookshelf. "Just take care of it after dinner."

She frowned. Judging by the darkness, it had to be getting close. "What time is it?"

"Nearly eight," he said, leaning against the nearest wall. "Mother's been stalling dinner. She sent me up here to fetch you."

"Oh." As loath as she was to give into this, she wouldn't be able to hide away in her room forever. Her stomach ached already at the thought of a warm meal. She had only picked at her sandwich on the train.

"It's not like he's going to kill you, you know."

The statement roused her to full attention. "What?"

"He actually wants to meet you," Draco said, sounding as if his declaration had been something he had been suppressing for a long while. In a way, Bethany supposed he had been. He idolized everything her father stood for; why shouldn't he come to his defense? "Why else do you think he would have waited all day for you to get back from Hogwarts?"

"I know," said Bethany. "But—"

"He's your family," Draco rattled on, now content to listen. "I'd have thought you would want to have a real family after you grew up with all those Muggles in that _orphanage._ " The word sounded akin to a curse as he injected every ounce of contempt he had into his words. "But all you want to do is hide away in your room!"

"You don't understand," she said levelly though her eyes were blazing, "and you don't even try to."

His cheeks darkened in color as he said, "If you're going to start on about how evil he is, then why do you bother with me? Or Mother or Father?" When she didn't answer, he continued, "You know we feel the same as he does, and Father has committed the same crimes he has. So why are we any different than your father?"

Bethany felt as if walls were closing in all around her, but she didn't take the time to look, eyes locked with Draco's. She felt her pulse thrumming throughout her whole body. "Because you actually give a damn about me."

"How do you know he doesn't? The last time you saw him, you were a baby, and Mother says—"

"The person I met in the Chamber of Secrets didn't _care_ about me." The memory of waking up in the dark cavern invaded her mind. It was if it had happened yesterday. The horror she had felt, the utter violation that came with knowing that he had used her for his own selfish gain was something unparalleled. Bethany blinked back tears as she glared at Draco. "What's to say that I'm not going to be a pawn again?"

And in that moment, she felt she understood her Boggart better than ever; she wasn't _just_

afraid of being like her father, she was afraid of being a fool once again, deluded and lulled into a false sense of security only to discover she had been tricked.

None of this was articulated through words, but Draco read her face and saw the duress reflected there. "It's... it's not going to be that bad, you know. He just wants to see you. Then he'll have to go away." When she still seemed unconvinced, he said, "You know how much he is risking, being here? He wouldn't do that if he didn't care."

His words made sense logically, but she couldn't help but feel he was painfully blinded by his own adoration. Nevertheless, his attempts to comfort her were touching. "I'm scared," Bethany confessed, averting her gaze to the hardwood floors.

"You don't have to be."

She hoped he was right.


	24. Chapter 23: An Overwound Clock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So my life has been pretty hectic the last few months (ranging from exams to family emergencies), which means it’s been hard for me to find time/inspiration/motivation to write. And today, when I came to publish the chapter, I unfortunately began experiencing formatting errors. But at long last, the chapter is finally here! Chapter titles for the fifth year come from The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald!
> 
> I’m not going to lie, this chapter was challenging for me to write as well. I’m trying to depict my own version of Voldemort that, as time goes on, will resemble the Voldemort seen in the books.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

* * *

** Momento Mori **

** Chapter Twenty Three: An Overwound Clock  **

 

It took a few minutes before Bethany was able to gather the strength to leave her bedroom. When she finally did, Draco was at her side, silent but somehow radiating excitement. Bethany couldn’t fathom it; how could somebody be pleased to know a mass killer was in their home? Nevertheless, his presence was somehow a source of comfort. 

 

After descending the staircase, Bethany spotted Lucius standing in front of the parlor, pacing back and forth with his hands clasped behind his back. His expression, which moments prior had been the very picture of distress, was one of unabashed relief. “Bethany! How wonderful to see you! Are you feeling better?” 

 

“Yes, thank you.” Her stomach churned as she glanced that the door. Behind there was possibly the most tyrannical, evil being on the planet... and he wanted to have dinner with her. 

 

“I thought it might be best if I joined you and your father tonight” Lucius said, an unnatural smile plastered across his features. “After all, it has been some time since the two of you were last together.” 

 

“Yes,” Bethany blurted out, grateful. “I think that’s a great idea.” Anything was better than facing this alone. 

 

“Excellent!” 

 

“Father, I want to meet the Dark Lord,” Draco said loudly, doing his best Veruca Salt impersonation. 

 

Bethany allowed herself to feel hopeful. Meeting her father would the Draco equivalent of a Muggle child going to Disneyland. With the Malfoys likely domination the conversation, she might be rendered virtually invisible...

 

“Not now, Draco!” Lucius snapped, betraying his nerves. Draco merely scowled in response, while Bethany wondered why Lucius, who was by all accounts her father’s favorite and most loyal servant, was frightened to meet with him. It did nothing to relax her. “You’ll have plenty of opportunities this summer. Besides,” he continued, “you need to keep your mother company.”

 

Draco muttered something under his breath that Bethany couldn’t make out, but proceeded to skulk over to the door leading to the dining room, shoulders stiff. “Bethany, should we go in?” Lucius said as Draco dramatically slammed the door shut. 

 

Bethany nodded, not entirely trusting herself to speak. This was it; she was going to meet her father— properly this time. Not the echo of his sixteen self preserved in a leather bound diary, nor as an elusive voice hidden behind a teacher’s turban, but in the flesh. 

 

The thought was paralyzing. 

 

Lucius opened the parlor door with gusto and smiled reassuringly. “Ladies first.” Bethany stepped forth, palms growing sweaty. 

 

The parlor was lit dimly, only a single lamp providing a yellowed glow. In front of the unlit fireplace stood a tall, lean figure dressed in billowing black robes. At the sound of the door closing, the being spun around. 

 

She clamped her lips together to prevent herself from gasping. Harry had mentioned in Dumbledore’s office that the resurrection ceremony Wormtail had performed involved a physical transformation, but it did nothing to prepare Bethany for the horror that stood her. Every trace of Tom Riddle had vanished, replaced by a snakelike, eldritch being with a pair of glowing red eyes. His dark hair was gone, leaving him completely bald. A bloodless pair of thin lips raised themselves into a smile, blending in with the nearly translucent alabaster skin. But worst of all (in her opinion) was the absence of a nose, replaced by twin slits. 

 

“Bethany,” his cold, high voice rang out in the silent room. “How marvelous to see you after all this time.“ He spread out his arms, the long, draping sleeves making him look like a bat. 

 

 _No_.  He wasn’t— surely, he couldn’t be... but Bethany’s fears were confirmed as he walked towards her, closer and closer, until he had pulled her into some sort of embrace. 

 

 _This can’t be happening_ ,  she thought, frozen in place. She was being  hugged  by the  Dark Lord.  The evil, ruthless murderer who seemed more like the villain from a children’s book than a real person was  giving her a _hug_. 

 

Realizing that she was standing there with her arms hanging by her side, Bethany quickly threw her arms around his skeletal frame, hoping this would stop... well, whatever  _this_ was. It seemed to work, as only seconds later pulled away.

 

The strange smile faded away once he looked over Bethany’s head. “And Lucius.” 

 

“I thought it might be a good idea to accompany Bethany, my Lord. As you’ll learn, she’s rather shy,” said Lucius from behind her. 

 

The Dark Lord stared at Lucius, very much resembling a rattlesnake that was about to lunge and attack its prey. But he nodded before turning around, the black robes dragging behind him. It may have been Bethany’s imagination, but she could have sworn she heard a sigh of relief from Lucius. 

 

“Have your elves prepared us any dinner tonight, Lucius?” Her Father asked as he took a seat in one of the two leather chairs that sat in the middle of the room. 

 

It was almost comical to hear Lucius nearly yelp, “Of course, my Lord!” He cleared his throat. “Winnie!”

 

With a pop, the old house elf appeared. Winnie was the oldest of the Malfoys’ two house elves; she spoke with a gravely voice and had deep, pronounced lines in her forehead. “Fetch us our dinner,” Lucius ordered, sounding more like his regular, haughty self. “The Dark Lord and his daughter are famished, and so am I. And bring Batty with you,” he added. “Narcissa and Draco can fend for themselves for a minute or two.” Winnie bowed, disappearing with a second pop. 

 

“Didn’t you have a third elf?” Her Father asked as Bethany sat down on the cream colored sofa. It was placed beside both chairs, and right in front of a short, glass coffee table. “Only I could have sworn I remembered another.”

 

“We used to,” Lucius replied, shifting his seat. “Unfortunately, we had to let Dobby go. He became meddlesome.” 

 

Her father nodded, managing to look both disinterested and thoughtful all at once. After a pause, he asked, “And how did you find your fourth year at Hogwarts, Bethany?” 

 

“It was good,” Bethany replied instantly, not giving it much thought and not wanting to prolong this uncomfortable interaction. 

 

He arched an eyebrow... well, he  _would have_ arched an eyebrow if he had any eyebrows. “Really? That’s good to hear. I heard that you were having some... boy troubles.” 

 

Oh, Merlin,  _no_.  She couldn’t believe it... Rita Skeeter’s audacious lies had managed to make their way to  _Lord Voldemort_.  Bethany was beyond mortified. She felt her face grow warm as Lucius interjected, “Those were lies, my Lord, spread by one of Bethany’s classmates. It was very unfortunate, but—“

 

“Silence, Lucius. I know the last time the three of us were all together that it was difficult for Bethany to say much beyond ‘Dada’, but now that she is fourteen, I trust she knows how to speak for herself.” There was a threat in there somewhere. Lucius paled and managed a timid nod before the Dark Lord’s attention was fixed back on her. “Is this true?”

 

Bethany nodded. “It’s not a problem anymore,” she assured him. 

 

“Good.” He lazily twirled his wand. “If you have anymore problems in the future with this unscrupulous individual, let me know. I can easily send somebody to dispose of them.”

 

Her blood ran cold. She may have derided a sick sense of glee from scaring the wits out of Pansy, but she didn’t want to see the other girl dead for simply for spreading rumors, no matter how unpleasant they happened to be. 

 

“The student comes from a Pureblooded family, my Lord. It would be shame to spill their blood for such a minor infraction,” Lucius chimed in. 

 

If looks could kill, Lucius would have been struck dead right in that leather chair. “Are you questioning me?” her father demanded. 

 

“No, my Lord, of course not—“

 

“Pureblood or not, anyone who threatens my daughter or I is an enemy of the cause and is to be expunged from the Earth.” 

 

There was a moment of stunned silence. “I understand completely, my Lord,” Lucius replied, subservient as ever. 

 

Before anybody could respond, Winnie returned, Batty beside her. “Your dinners, Master!” Batty squeaked. In both hands, he held silver trays displaying lamb shanks with assorted vegetables. Winnie held a tray as well, but carried a bottle of wine under one arm. 

 

Lucius said nothing, sitting upright in his seat. It was only now that Bethany realize he had shrunk during the exchanges with her father. She was starting to think his presence wasn’t such a good idea after all. If he kept interrupting, her father might  _Avada_ him. 

 

Batty handed Bethany her tray, bowing his head as he did so. “Thank you,” she told him, picking up her fork and knife. “It looks delicious.”

 

“You don’t have to thank them, Bethany,” her father said, sounding amused as Winnie began pulling the cork from the bottle of wine. “They’re servants. It is their only task in life.”

 

Boiling inwardly with anger, her hands gripped the utensils tightly.  _Servants_?  House elves were  _slaves_. How dare he belittle her kindness towards them when it was practically the only thing she could do, short of giving them clothes? “Narcissa and I have told her this countless times, my Lord,” Lucius said. “She does it every time.”

 

Her father chose not to comment, instead turning to his own meal. Bethany watched with curiosity as he grimaced at the asparagus and poked at the roasted potato instead. 

 

Batty procured three silvers goblets, leaving Winnie to pour the wine into two of them and conjure water into the third. Bethany thanked the elves again before they disappeared, seeming to brighten their spirits. Lucius and her father, however, exchanged glances with one another as if there was some sort of inside joke they were keeping from her. 

 

“Your OWLs are coming up,” her father informed her, as if she wasn’t already aware. “I want you to devote as much time as you possibly can to studying this upcoming school year— especially in Defense.”

 

Bethany blinked. So far, her father was not what she expected. She had been envisioning an evening where he openly plotted the demises of Muggles whilst laughing maniacally. Instead, the topic of conversation were... oddly normal. Or, at least, she assumed they were normal. The only comparisons she had were the Malfoys with Draco and families on TV. So far, the Dark Lord has managed to tick off the boxes dealing with her love life (or lack thereof), bullies, and nagging about her marks. 

 

“Okay,” she replied, uncertain of what else to say. 

 

“Did you like that Potions book I sent you?” He asked suddenly. 

 

Potions book...? It clicked. Of course...  _Moste Potente Potions_.  In a way, she was relieved the gift hadn’t actually been from Professor Moody— well, not from Barty Crouch Jr. who had been disguised as Professor Moody. It seemed to extravagant a present for a professor to give a student he had only known for a short time. 

 

When she nodded, he said, “I thought you might. Wormtail had confided that you had a talent for the subject.”

 

Oh. Right.  _Scabbers_.  Bethany had forgotten that Peter Pettigrew had been there for the first three years of Hogwarts. Recalling the fact that Ron’s seemingly harmless rat really had been a thirty something year old man was a fact she tried to repress whenever she could. In fact, Bethany wished he hadn’t even brought it up. 

 

“Wormtail? How did he know?” Lucius demanded. His fingers whitened as they dug into the arms of the chair. 

 

Her father ignored him. “It was intended to be a Christmas gift, but unfortunately I ran into some, ah,  _complications_ along the way .  I’m sure you understand.” 

 

Bethany nodded again, even though she was fairly confident that she did not understand. She just hoped  _complications_ wasn’t code for  _I murdered lots of people to get you a book_. Then, upon realizing she should probably say something, she managed to choke out, “Thank you. I like it. A lot.” 

 

“I’m pleased that you do. Perhaps you can brew some of those potions over the summer.”

 

The conversation came to a lull when her father began questioning Lucius about Ministry business. Bethany tried to pay attention as best as she could, knowing some of this might be useful to Dumbledore or Harry, but it was hard to remember the name of Cornelius Fudge’s wife’s cousin’s daughter who was working in some department regarding Muggle affairs when such a delectable dinner was placed before her. 

 

“—an Unspeakable,” Lucius said as Bethany, who had just sat her tray on the table, brought a hand over her face to hide the yawn that insisted upon escaping her. 

 

“Interesting,” Her Father replied, shoving one of his lamb shanks with his fork toward the edge of the plate idly. His tray still seemed full; Bethany wondered how much he had bothered to eat. “Thank you, Lucius. I dare say the information you have provided to me will prove to be useful indeed. I’m afraid we must have bored poor Bethany, though.” 

 

Lucius seemed startled, as if he had just remembered she was there. “Of course. I apologize, my Lord. I’ll let the two of you—“

 

“I think it would probably be best for Bethany to go to bed now. She’s had a long day, after all.” 

 

Even though she was hardly tired after the nap she had taken, she gratefully took the opportunity. “It has,” she said, solemnly as she could manage. She rose to her feet. “Good night, Lucius. Good night, Father.” Bethany nodded as she addressed each of them. 

 

“Oh, I think Father sounds awfully formal, don’t you? I think I would rather be called Dad.” 

 

She froze.  _Dad_? Was he being serious? When there seemed to be no punchline to this admittedly laughable request, Bethany looked back at him, stunned. “Uh... okay. Dad.” The shock began to settle in. “Goodnight, then,” she said, practically running towards the door. 

 

* * *

 

 

Every subsequent interaction with her father seemed to blur together. He would often appear at the Manor in the evenings, taking his dinner in the parlor, where Bethany would be forced to engage in small talk with him. Much to her surprise, most of these conversations revolves around— or, even more specifically, about scoring well on her OWLs. 

 

“Has the school sent out announcements about prefects yet?” He asked one night, pushing his broccoli to the side of his plate. 

 

Bethany blinked. She had completely forgotten about that fifth year was the one where prefects were selected. For a moment, fear seized her. What if they had sent them out? What if Flitwick and Dumbledore decided she wasn’t good enough to be a prefect? But then she remembered that Hermione hadn’tmentioned anything regarding being selected for prefect— and if anyone was going to be prefect, it was Hermione. 

 

But then again (she thought with a twinge of sadness), she hadn’t received many letter from Hermione over the summer. The most she had received was a few cryptic scribblings, mostly with the sentiment  _Can’t wait to see you at Hogwarts!_ or  _I’m so sorry to hear that! I hope things get better for you soon!_ The same could be said for Ron. 

 

Bethany shook her head before saying, “I don’t think so.” 

 

Her father stabbed at a piece of chicken with more animosity than was warranted before saying, “I suspect you will be picked for Ravenclaw. Heads of house choose, of course, but Dumbledore must approve their decisions, and he doesn’t always choose based on merit alone.” His lips curled up, forming a sneer. “He will want to keep a close eye on you. An  _annoyingly_ close eye.” With that, he brought the fork to his lips and began chewing his food. 

 

Bethany thought about it. “I don’t think Dumbledore is worried about me,” she said carefully. “Besides, it’s not like I’m planning on doing anything illegal anytime soon.” 

 

“All the same,” he said, “it’s a good thing you know Occlumency. I wouldn’t want any of my secrets being known by the Order of the Phoenix. May I ask, was it Lucius or Narcissa who taught you?” 

 

Bethany nearly dropped her fork. How did he know about her— 

 

 _It’s because he can’t read your mind, idiot,_ an unkind but unfortunately true voice in her head reminded her. “Neither of them. It was Professor Snape.”

 

“Snape?” This seemed to shock him. “I must congratulate him. Clearly, he has been more helpful to the cause than I could have possibly imagined. When did you start learning?” 

 

“A couple of years ago.” Then, she added, “He told me that it was a good idea to practice over the summer. You know, so that it becomes a habit.” The last thing she wanted was for her father to suspect Snape was actually working for the opposing side. “What’s the Order of the Phoenix?” 

 

Much to her surprise, her father let out a laugh. “It’s the name of Dumbledore’s secret organization— though I suppose you can hardly call it a secret anymore. It’s practically common knowledge now. During the war, he enlisted several skilled witches and wizards to help him attempt to destroy me. Obviously,” he said, with a menacing yet smug smile, “those efforts were in vain.”

 

 _The Order of the Phoenix._ Longingly, she thought of her future, which at present seemed so far away. She would find a job somewhere— preferably at the Ministry— but the rest was uncertain. Would she be married? Have a child? Or would she be coming over to Manor weekly, alone, to have more of these awkward, stilted dinners with a mass murderer? Or... would Dumbledore let her be a part of his secret organization... perhaps she could be a double agent, some sort of spy...

 

“What subjects are you planning on taking for your NEWT year?”

 

Bethany was startled out of her thoughts. “Uh, I don’t know yet,” she replied. “I don’t really know what I want to do yet for a career, so I was hoping to talk to Professor Flitwick about it and go from there.”

 

An amused expression crossed his features for the briefest of seconds before vanishing instantly. “My recommendation is that you take as many classes as possible during your NEWT years.”

 

Bethany opened her mouth to protest. What good would extra classes do for her, especially if they weren’t preparing her for her future job? One of the things she had been looking forward to was the possibility of having long breaks in her schedule. But, upon remembering just who she was speaking to, she closed her mouth. Arguing wouldn’t do her any good, and it was only a suggestion, after all. 

 

At least she  _hoped_ it was. 

 

 

* * *

~~~~  


 

As July began nearing its end, Bethany received a letter from a tiny, brown owl. Based on the size alone, she thought (more like hoped) it was Pigwidgeon until he perched himself upon her window sill, holding his leg out and watching her silently, making no attempts to climb onto her or fly around her bedroom. The markings were different as well. She deflated, realizing Ron hadn’t sent her a letter after all. She wasn’t ashamed to admit that she was missing him more than she usually did over the summers. At least she had Harry to ease the pain of the loneliness. He, like her, had been feeling neglected by them as long as she had. 

 

Bethany untied the letter on his knee, noting the pale parchment that was different from Ron’s. It was a higher quality, for sure...

 

_Hi, Bethany! How’s your summer holiday going so far? I know you’re probably wondering why I wrote you, so I’ll cut to the chase. I’m staying at my Mum’s house at the moment and I found a copy of your Mum’s family tree in the library. I thought you might be interested in looking at it. Let me know, and I’ll send it to you!_

_—Terry Boot_

 

Bethany grinned at the letter. This was wonderful... she would love to know more about the  normal side of her family. She reached into her own desk drawer, grabbing her parchment and a quill. 

 

_Dear Terry,_

_My holiday has been alright,_ she wrote, figuring a general pleasantry would be better than the truth. 

 

_Thank you so much for telling me about this. I would love to look at my mother’s family tree! Your Mum won’t mind me borrowing it, will she? I don’t want you getting into trouble because of me._

 

She debated on what to say for signing off. Her typical ‘Love, Bethany’ was too familiar and something she reserved for her best friends, and ‘Sincerely, Bethany’ didn’t sound quite right. In the end, she went with: 

 

_—Bethany Riddle_

 

Bethany fed the owl a few treats (Khione, who was currently in her cage, hooted indignantly until she was given some as well) and tied the letter to his leg. Just as the owl took flight, Draco barged into her bedroom. 

 

Bethany shot a glare his way. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you how to knock?” She demanded. 

 

Draco didn’t respond, watching the tiny owl as it rose higher and higher in the sky. “Weasley sent you a letter, did he?”

 

“No,” Bethany scowled at him, too irritated to be impressed that he knew what Ron’s owl looked like. “Honestly, what if I had been changing or something? You shouldn’t walk into people’s rooms without knocking.” 

 

“Why would you be changing your robes in the middle afternoon?” He countered. 

 

“I don’t know!” Her eyes darted around the room until she spied her inkwell. “Ink! What if I had spilled ink all over my robes?” 

 

Draco rolled his eyes before flopping down on her bed. “Mother wanted me to tell you that your father is coming over for dinner tonight.” 

 

Bethany let out a dramatic sigh. “Oh,  _wonderful_.  I’m positively  _thrilled_. ”

 

He sat up on the bed, glowering at her. “You do realize he is the greatest wizard who has ever lived, right? You could learn a lot from him.” When she said nothing, he added, “I thought you Ravenclaws  _liked_ learning.” 

 

“Oh, yes, of course. Like torturing animals and murdering people. That’ll be on the OWLs for sure. Very useful skills for my future.” She sat backwards in her chair to face him, grimacing. 

 

“You never know,” Draco said. “Your father’ll probably want you to help serve him after you get out of school.” 

 

Bethany felt as if she had swallowed lead. Oh, God, he probably  _did_ want that. Still, determined to not show her utter horror and repulsion at the thought, she replied, “Well I hope he realizes that I don’t intend to do anything of the sort.” 

 

“You have to start thinking about these things sensibly, you know,” he said, speaking to her as if she were a child. “We’re graduating Hogwarts in a couple of years. Do you really think you’ll be allowed to be best mates with Potter forever?”

 

Bethany clenched her jaw before she breathed in deeply and said, “By the time we graduate from Hogwarts, I’ll be of age, which means that I’m won’t have to listen to anybody’s opinions of who I should or shouldn’t be friends with.”

 

“Maybe,” he answered flippantly, “but a war will be starting soon. You’re going to have to pick a side, eventually.” 

 

“I’ve already picked my side,” she said, not thinking twice before saying it. “And I’m going to fight for what is right.” She tilted her chin up, a picture of defiance— but inside, she was a bundle of nerves.

 

Draco’s posture stiffened. Any mirth in his eye or smile on his face vanished completely. It was as if she were staring back at an expressionless statue. “Or at least the side you  _think_ is right.” The corners of his lips tightened.

 

She swallowed, feeling as if something were caught in her throat. Her heart seemed to be shaking her entire body with every beat. “Exactly.” The word sounded hollow as it left her lips. The temperature of the room dropped several degrees. Even though it was sweltering summer’s day, it felt as though an icy midwinter storm was upon them; quiet, cool, and intense. 

 

“Well, I hope you realize I’ll do the same.” For a brief moment, elation swept over her, only for it to shatter once he said, “When the time comes, I’ll pick the side  _I_ think is right.” 

 

Her lips parted as she looked back at him, amazed and stunned. The thought of standing on the opposite side of the battlefield as Draco made her heart ache inside her chest. What would she do when that day finally came, when they would be forced to fight against one another? “Oh,” she said, feeling as though she might cry. Her lower lip trembled as she tried to keep her emotions under control. “I see.”

 

“Don’t worry,” Draco said lightly, somehow seemingly unaffected, “there is still time for you to change your mind.” 

 

Bethany nodded. “That’s right,” she said, before glancing at him. “And there’s time for you to change your mind as well.” 

 

He scoffed. “Me? Plotting with Potter against my own family? No thanks.” 

 

“This isn’t about Harry or your family. This is about treating others with respect, regardless of where they come from,” said Bethany, trying to remain level headed. “Just because your parents think Muggles are rubbish doesn’t mean you have to.” 

 

Unfazed, Draco rose to his feet. “I’m going to work on an essay,” he said stiffly before striding our of the room without so much as a glance back at Bethany. She watched him go, ignoring the empty, sinking feeling that had settled in her stomach. 

 

* * *

 

 

Bethany did her best to distract herself from her fight (was it a fight? She wasn’t certain) with Draco by delving into one of her many books. She reached for  _The Phantom Of the Opera_ , which she still had yet to finish. But instead of focusing on the plight of Christine Daaé, her mind echoed the conversation from earlier. 

 

It came as a relief when, only an hour later, Terry’s owl was back at the window, hooting insistently. She was shocked at how soon he had written back; his mother’s house must be close to Malfoy Manor. 

 

Bethany opened the window. The owl had a scroll tied to each leg, and he held out his left first. She accepted it, patting the owl on the head and ignoring Khione’s jealous cooing.

 

_Bethany,_

_Glad to hear your summer is going well! I wish mine were going better— I’m sure you’ve noticed, but I don’t get along with my Mum. We have drastically different views on Muggles. I’m sure you can relate, living with the Malfoys and all. So, basically what I’m trying to say is that I don’t really care what my Mum thinks about me lending this to you._

_Anyway, I hope you enjoy this! It has loads of information that I think you’ll find interesting. Feel free to let me know if you have any questions._

_—Terry Boot_

 

Bethany scribbled a quick note to Terry, expressing her thanks and sympathy for having to deal with his Pureblood fanatic of a mother. She took the family tree and was about to give the owl the letter when she paused, grabbed her quill and wrote:

 

_P.S. What is your owl’s name?_

 

As Terry’s owl flew high into the sky, Bethanyunraveled the scroll. In spindly, cursive letters, the words  _House of Shafiq_ were written in blood red ink. In fact, for a horrifying moment, Bethany wondered if it  was  blood. A family crest rested underneath it, showing a red shield with diagonal three silver lines crossing it. Two noble looking jackals sat on either side of the crest. 

 

The Shafiq family (which in some places was spelled Shaffick or Shaffiq) dated back to 1390. It wasn’t until 1763 that the spelling shifted towards Shafiq. 

 

Bethany scanned past numerous ancestors until, at the bottom of the document, she spied several names she recognized. 

_Horus Milton Shafiq (October 28, 1922– present)_

_Catalina Isabella Alvarez Shafiq (November 9, 1924– May 18, 1960)_

_Their daughters:_

 

_Valencia Isabella Shafiq (April 13, 1952– present)_

_Idris Evangeline Shafiq Schwartz (January 31st, 1954—present), married to Gunter Schwartz of Bavaria_

 

_Delilah Bernice Shafiq (March 20, 1952– January 8th, 1980), disowned_

 

Bethany stared down.  Disowned ? Why had her mother been disowned by her family? And— she noted— she had never married her father. She supposed she shouldn’t be too surprised; her father was hardly the ideal husband, and everyone she knew called her Delilah Shafiq instead of Delilah Riddle. 

 

A loud noise startled Bethany from her investigations. Hedwig was outside the window, pecking at the window pane. 

 

Bethany rolled up the family tree and slipped it into her pocket before walking over to the window. “Hi,” she cooed to Hedwig, letting her in. “Did you bring me a letter from Harry?” 

 

Khione hooted from her cage and flew out, happily nuzzling Hedwig. Bethany smiled at them as she unfurled Harry’s letter. Khione had a strange fascination with Hedwig— perhaps it was because they were the same breed. It was adorable seeing them together, as Khione seemed so small compared to Hedwig. 

 

_Bethany—_

_ Sorry to hear that your dad keeps stopping by. This summer has been awful.  I have to keep hiding under the Dursley’s window in the garden to actually hear what’s going on in the news. Thanks for sending me the Prophet the other day, by the way. If you learn anything important, pass it on to me, will you?  _

 

_ Have you gotten any more letters from Ron or Hermione lately? I’m sick of reading all those  vague letters. Just because they are having a better summer than the both of us doesn’t mean they have to act like it’s a secret. It would hardly be the first time.  _

_ I think I’m looking forward to Hogwarts more than ever. I reckon you feel the same. I’m glad I’ve at least got you to talk to. I’d be going mad by now if I didn’t. _

_ Write back whenever you can.  _

_Love, Harry_

 

Bethany wanted to cry as she held the letter. Sure, her summer had been wretched so far, but Harry— Harry was being shut out by Ron and Hermione, too, on top of watching Cedric get murdered. It was traumatizing enough just seeing the older boy’s body... but Harry had watched him  die.  And unlike Bethany, he had actually known Cedric. She knew he was taking the loss harder than he let on. She only wished he would tell her.

 

“Who’s that letter from?” 

 

Bethany jumped, letting out a yelp. Her father was standing behind her, wand in hand. “Nobody!” She squeaked, clasping the letter to her chest. 

 

“Nobody?” He narrowed his eyes. “Try again, Bethany. I won’t tolerate you lying to me.” 

 

Her heart pounded inside her chest. Shit— her mind was drawing a blank. What person could she possibly offer up—

 

“Is it a letter from  _Harry Potter_?” He asked mockingly. “Because if it is, I am afraid that we need to have a talk about how utterly inappropriate it is for you to be consorting with my greatest enemy.” Were her eyes mistaking her, or had his grip on his wand increased?

 

“It’s from Terry Boot!” She blurted our, shoving Harry’s letter into her pocket, searching for the family tree. 

 

“And who is he?” 

 

“One of my classmates,” she said. “We, um, were talking about genealogy last year, and he sent me Mum’s family tree.” 

 

He frowned. “Why would you want Delilah’s family tree?” 

 

Was he being serious? “Because I want to know more about her,” Bethany said slowly. “I don’t remember her at all.” 

 

“Don’t take that tone with me, Bethany” he said sharply. She flinched. His expression softened, as if lost in thought before he said, “You wouldn’t remember her, would you? You were less than five months old when she died. Don’t worry, you didn’t miss out on much.” 

 

Bethany felt as if she had been punched. How could he say things like that about her  _mother_? About his...significant other? Girlfriend? Their relationship was a mystery to her. “Don’t talk about her like that,” Bethany choked out. 

 

He was nonplussed by her indignation. “Your mother, I am sorry to say it, was an empty headed fool. The only practical skill she had was brewing potions, and it was dumb luck that she had the aptitude. You cannot begin to know how overjoyed I was to learn that you had inherited my brains. Her most redeeming feature was her  _looks_ ,” he sneered. “If you ask anyone, they’ll tell you about how  _beautiful_ she was, how  _pretty_ ... and they’ll forget to mention how  _insipid_ and dull she was.”

 

Bethany felt a lump in her throat. “How can you talk about her like that?“

 

“Quite easily. Are you ready for dinner?” 

 

She shook her head. “I’m not hungry.

 

His eyes widened, and his eyes seemed to grow even more red, if that was even possible. “There’s no need to be so upset. I’m merely telling you the truth. Your mother is gone, and the world is all the better for it.” 

 

Bethany closed her eyes, willing herself to remain a sense of calm and not scream. “I’m not upset,” she lied evenly. “I just have had a rotten day, that’s all. I want to go to bed early.” 

 

“And I,” he countered, “want to spend time with my daughter. I haven’t seen her for nearly fifteen years, or have you forgotten?” 

 

Something inside Bethany snapped just then. “As a matter of fact, I  _do_ remember. It’s hard to forget when you grow up in a stupid  _orphanage_!” She hissed. Her hands were clenched, her long nails digging into her palms to form half crescents. “Which would have been entirely  _preventable_ if my Mum wasn’t dead and you hadn’t decided to try and murder an innocent baby!” Before he could a word in, she continued, “So if you really want to eat dinner, I suggest you eat it with Draco! The two of you have far more in common than you and I do.” 

 

Silence filled the room. Her father’s lips were turned into a grimace, and Bethany felt her heart plummet into her stomach. This was it... she was going to die... she closed her eyes, preparing herself for her imminent death. 

 

“You’re right,” he responded, his voice seeming to drop the temperature of the room down several degrees. “You are tired and need your rest. No child of mine would dare to be so  _insolent_ if they weren’t under a tremendous amount of stress. We shall attempt to dine again this Friday.” He turned around, robes dragging against the wooden floor. “And the Malfoy boy isn’t nearly as similar to me as you imagine him,” he added. “He doesn’t know how to guard his mind like you do. If anything, he’s more like your sniveling fool of a mother.” 

 

Something inside Bethany shattered just then— she wasn’t sure if it was the belittlement or the combined insult against Draco and her mother, but she glared at the back of his bald head, inwardly chanting,  _I hate you, I hate you, I hate you..._

 

When the door closed, Bethany grabbed Harry’s letter out of her pocket. It was crumpled up now due to her hastiness whilst hiding it, but she looked down at the letter again, rereading it. 

 

_Thanks for sending me the Prophet... I reckon you feel the same... Love, Harry_

 

Her vision blurred with tears. Too fatigued to even contemplate holding them in, Bethany sniffled as she walked over to her desk. When had her life become a living hell?

 

_Dear Harry,_

_I’m looking forward to Hogwarts again, too. This summer has been the worst of my life— even worse than summers at the orphanage, and that’s saying something. I was supposed to have dinner with_

 

Bethany paused. She never knew what to call him. The Dark Lord? Lord Voldemort? Father?  Dad ? None of them seemed right. She wished she could write “ _that tosser of a sperm donor_ ” but that conjured up a myriad of unpleasant thoughts. Finally, she made up her mind and continued. 

 

_I was supposed to have dinner with Father again tonight, but he decided to have a go at my Mum. It’s the second time he’s done it. He said awful stuff about her under Quirrell’s turban first year, remember? I finally lost it and told him I wasn’t hungry and he ended up leaving. Round two is on Friday. Hooray._

 

_I’m so sorry that your summer is going so poorly. If I thought it would actually be better, I’d have you come here, but I’m afraid that Malfoys would never allow it and since my father has taken to showing up all time, it would be unsafe. I’m really sorry, Harry._

_Ron and Hermione haven’t written me for a few days, either. I know they are our friends, but I am getting frustrated too. I wish they would just trust us, you know? I hate being shut out like this, and I know you do, too._

 

_If you need to talk to somebody about what happened with Cedric, I hope you know I’ll be there to listen. I know that all this has been upsetting you more than you are telling me. You’re my best friend, Harry. I’d never judge you for anything you are feeling. You can trust me._

_Love, Bethany_

 

The sky was growing dark by the time she finished writing. Hedwig was now inside Khione’s cage, resting for her upcoming flight. Tears clung to her eyelashes before she wiped them away with the back of her hand. She glanced down at the letter, dismayed at how messy her scrawl was.

 

The door flew open suddenly, revealing Draco. “What in Merlin’s name did you say to him?” He demanded. “Father says he’s absolutely furi— are you crying?” 

 

“Go away!” Bethany hated the fact that he was here, seeing her vulnerable like this. She hated the fact that he despised Muggles so blindly and deeply that he wanted to kill them. She hated— she hated— “Get out! Leave me alone!” 

 

Draco stared at her as if she had been speaking Mermish. He opened his mouth, ready to say something but she cut him off. “What don’t you understand about that? Get out of my room and leave me alone!” A sob slipped out of her throat, and she buried her face in her hands. 

 

The door closed and she, blessedly, was left alone. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can’t promise that the next chapter will be next week— I think a miracle would have to happen for it to be ready by then. But I hope this chapter is enough for now! Please be patient with me, and I promise I’ll keep writing— the updates just may not be as frequent.


	25. Chapter Twenty Four: The Pursued, the Pursuing, the Busy, and the Tired

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everybody! Today’s chapter includes several quotes from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix! I hope you enjoy!

** Momento Mori  **

 

** Chapter Twenty Four: The Persued, the Persuing, the Busy, and the Tired **

 

_Bethany,_

_I’m with Ron and Hermione now. I can’t tell you where we are or what we are doing, but I promise I will tell you the moment I see you on the Hogwarts Express._

_Love, Harry_

 

With a frustrated, muffled yell, Bethany crumpled the letter into a ball and threw it at her wall. So that was it? After nearly an entire summer of being kept in the dark, Harry was shutting her out as well? When she was on the brink of losing her sanity in this godforsaken Manor? 

 

She collapsed onto her bed, silently fuming. It was  unfair.  Why was she left out of the secret? She couldn’t believe that Harry had...had  _betrayed_ her like this. Bethany buried her face in her hands, hoping there was some way she could disappear. 

 

She had never felt this isolated before in her life— not even at the orphanage. That was partly a self imposed exile; besides, it wasn’t as if she knew what it was like to have friends. But now, having known the warmth that came with companionship, the sting of being shoved aside and being left out felt like a dagger to the side. 

 

She flopped down on her bed, closing her eyes. She wished that the floor with swallow her whole and take her away from this... this life. Things had been tense since her and Draco; gone were lengthy conversations and instead they were made awkward small talk at the dinner table. 

 

Her lips trembled as she did her best to keep the tears from falling. Now  _Harry_ wasn’t talking to her anymore, either. One of her only friends in the world had blown her off, now that he was part of the secret Ron and Hermione had been keeping all summer long. 

 

Bethany missed the bustle of Hogwarts. She missed her chair in the library. She missed sipping on pumpkin juice. She missed the way the lake looked early in the morning with mist hovering above the waves. 

 

She missed Fred Weasley. 

 

He had been in the back of her mind for months now; the pleasant thought that she took out before she went to sleep and tucked away in the stressful hours of the day. She thought about what it would be like, if he were sitting there beside her. She imagined he would probably come up with some ridiculous albeit hilarious nickname for her father that would send her into peals of laughter. 

 

Of course, all this was hypothetical. Fred probably fancied Angelina— and besides, Lucius and/or her father would lose their minds over the mere thought of a Weasley being in the Manor. But regardless, it was the happiest moments of her day when she could imagine him there beside her. 

 

Something told her that this would be  the year. The year that Fred might wake up and realize that she was somebody he fancied. He’d ask her out; it would be straightforward and maybe not as romantic as it was in the films, but it would be  Fred  so she would accept happily. They would spend Saturdays in Hogsmeade together, sipping cups of Butterbeer as their feet knocked together underneath the table. And then, as he dropped her off in front to the Ravenclaw Tower, he would lean in and kiss her. Sometimes she envisioned it being short and quick, but satisfying nonetheless. Other times, she longed for something slow and lingering. His hand would rest on her cheek while her hands came to thread their way into his hair and it would be perfect. 

 

But she knew that she wasn’t confident enough to undertake the task of letting him know she was interested. Her attempts at flirting were lamentable at best and often mortifying. It was all up to him, she decided, to approach the subject— that is, if it ever came up. 

 

Thinking of Fred put her in brighter spirits. Something about the mere thought of him made her smile. She wiped away the tears that had been attempting to form in the corner of her eyes and rose to her feet. 

 

She walked to other side of the room to kneel down and pick up Harry’s letter. Now that the anger had subsided, she smoothed out the parchment, holding it close to herself. Harry must know how she was feeling; if he could have told her where they were, he would have by now. It wasn’t his fault... but it probably was someone else’s. 

 

But whom?

 

* * *

 

A few days later, as Bethany, Draco, and Narcissa were gathered for lunch of cucumber sandwiches, two owls swooped in through the open windows, one settling by Bethany and the other by Draco. “What on Earth could it be?” Narcissa queried as Bethany accepted a small parcel from the owl. 

 

_Dear Miss Riddle,_

_I am pleased to inform you, after much deliberation, that you have been selected as a prefect for Ravenclaw. You are required to attend a short meeting on the Hogwarts Express to receive a timetable for your patrol duties. Enclosed is your badge, which you shall wear on your robes at all times. Further instructions will be given to you by this year’s Head Boy and Head Girl, Ewan Donnelley and CrystinLlewelyn. You will patrol the train afterwards at your leisure and deduct points from any rule breakers._

_I offer you my sincerest congratulations. I know you shall make Ravenclaw proud._

_Sincerely,_

_Professor Filius Flitwick_

Bethany stared at the letter in awe. She was a prefect. A  _prefect_. It seemed too good to be true. She searched inside the envelope, procuring the badge. A large P was engraved on the blue and bronze badge, accompanied by the Ravenclaw eagle. 

 

“Is that— it is!” Narcissa’s voice was shriller than Bethany had ever heard it. She opened her mouth to say something, only to realize her outburst was because Draco was holding his own badge in the palm of his hand. “A prefect! Oh, my darling boy!” She stood up and ran to the other side of the table, hugging him tightly as he protested. 

 

“And Bethany!” She beamed, spying the badge in her hands. “You’ve got one, too! How wonderful!” She fluttered to the other side of the table, eyes bright as she pulled Bethany into a side hug. Bethany did not reciprocate the gesture, feeling stiff as a statue as she stared at her badge, still stunned. “Two prefects! This is cause for celebration! I’ll take the two of you to Diagon Alley today, and you can buy yourselves whatever you like!” 

 

And so that was how Bethany found herself in Quidditch Quality Supplies, slouched over on a bench as Draco perused the aisles for Quidditch gear. Narcissa was following behind him, asking questions and tittering excitedly every time she remembered that he was prefect... which was at least every two minutes. 

 

Bethany’s gaze fell to the hardwood floors. After the initial excitement had faded, she felt strangely empty and discontent. She had no idea why— after all, she had wanted to be a prefect for years now. There was little voice inside her head, a cruel, spiteful voice feeding doubt after doubt. What if the only reason Dumbledore had allowed her to have the position was so that she could be a spy for him or something? Or maybe he really did suspect she was secretly evil... She just wished she could know if she had earned it herself or if this all had to do with her stupid father. 

 

The bell on the door jingled, signaling that another customer had entered the shop. Her eyes glanced over to the door where she saw, much to her surprised, Mrs. Weasley. She was carrying a stack on books under her arms, wrapped in brown packaging. What was Mrs. Weasley doing here?

 

It wasn’t until the woman turned around that she let out a noise of surprise. “Bethany! Oh, it’s been ages since I’ve seen you, dear!” She smiled as she pulled Bethany into a warm, motherly embrace. “How have you been?” She asked sympathetically. 

 

“All right,” she lied. Public places weren’t the best place to discuss her father. “And how have you been, Mrs. Weasley?” 

 

“Oh, we’ve been having an eventful summer,” she said, unknowing of the jealous coiling within Bethany. “We just found out that Ron is a prefect!” 

 

Ron? Prefect? For some reason, Bethany had assumed Harry would be the prefect for Gryffindor. But the more she thought about it, the more sense it made; Ron wasn’t nearly as prone to trouble as Harry was but he had proven over the years that he had all the traits Gryffindors admired. He was deserving of the position, through and through. However, her pride for him waned exponentially when she thought about how he hadn’t bothered to send her an owl and tell him herself, ignoring the little voice in her head that point out she had yet to do the same. Still, she forced a smile and said, “Well, tell him I said congratulations! I’m a prefect as well, so I’ll see him at the meeting on the train!” 

 

Mrs. Weasley pulled her into another hug, congratulating her as she did so. “Hermione’s one too, but that’s no surprise!”

 

Bethany felt a second pang of bitterness but suppressed it. “She’s brilliant,” she said hollowly, unable to muster enough enthusiasm to make it seem genuine. “They’d be mad not to pick her.”

 

Mrs. Weasley beamed. “She’s going places, that’s for sure. Mark my words, she’ll be Head Girl— or maybe even Minister of Magic!” She lowered her voice as she said, “I do hope that Ron’ll give her a chance. She’s such a sweet girl. Don’t tell him, but I think she’d be good for him.” 

 

Bethany’s mind went back to their throw down at the Yule Ball. There was no doubt in her mind that Ron fancied Hermione as much as she fancied him. If only the two idiots would just  say something to each other... “I think she would be, too,” she said, feeling more sincere this time.

 

Mrs. Weasley grinned. “I’m glad to know someone else understands,” she said proudly. “Arthur thinks I’m seeing things. Well,” she placed a hand on Bethany’s arm, “I’ve got to buy Ronnie’s new broomstick. A Cleansweep,” she added, not that Bethany understood the significance of it. She was hardly Quidditch savvy. “He wants a new broom so badly. I think he’s planning on trying out for the team this year! Anyway, it was nice to see you, dear.” 

 

“It was nice to see you too, Mrs. Weasley. Tell Ron and everybody that I said hi,” she added. 

 

“Of course I will!” With that, Mrs. Weasley walked away, wandering towards one of the store employees... probably to find where Ron’s new Cleansweep would be...

 

“What,” Narcissa’s voice was suddenly in her ear, “was  _that_ woman doing here?” Her bright red lips were pulled into a grimace, eying Mrs. Weasley as if she were a soggy worm on the pavement. Draco was at her side, giving Mrs. Weasley an identical, loathing glare. 

 

“My friend Ron is a prefect now, too,” Bethany said. “She’s buying him a new broomstick.” 

 

“Weasley?” Draco was incredulous. “Don’t tell me  _he’s_ a prefect?”

 

“I just said he was, didn’t I?” Bethany said with a grimace. 

 

He smirked. “I thought for sure that Dumbledore would make sure Potter has the position. He’s the favorite, after all.” 

 

Bethany scowled at him, but refused to deign him a response. “Narcissa,” she said, ignoring him, “can we go to Flourish and Blotts now?” Her patience was wearing thin. 

 

Narcissa glanced over at Draco. “I suppose so,” she said. “You are done now, aren’t you, Draco? Besides, you’ll need to pick up your books for school.” 

 

Draco groaned loudly but followed Narcissa to the cash register. Bethany paid no attention to them, instead watching as Mrs. Weasley held Ron’s Cleansweep in both hands, frowning. Bethany wondered how much the broom cost— she knew the Weasleys didn’t have much money...

 

As they walked towards Flourish and Blotts, Draco made some attempts to speak to her. “What kind of broom was Weasley getting, anyway? I know his family can’t afford a Firebolt, not unless they wanted to starve—“

 

“It wasn’t funny when you made that joke the first time and it’s not funny now,” she snapped, hands clenching into fists. What the hell was wrong with him? First he essentially said that he was willing to join her father, ignore her for weeks, and now wanted to act as if nothing was wrong by belittling her closest friends? He had a lot of nerve. 

 

“Why does he need a broom, anyway? Is he trying out for Gryffindor’s team?” 

 

“It’s none of your business,” she said coldly.

 

He frowned. “Why are you in such a bad mood? I thought you’d be happy about being a prefect!” 

 

“I am!” She bit out. “I just wish that—“ I wish my life were different,  she wanted to say.  I wish that my friends would actually tell me what was going on. I wish that I didn’t have to find out that Ron and Hermione are prefects from Ron’s Mum. I wish that we weren’t on the brink of a war. But I wish, more than anything, that I wasn’t  his daughter.  Realizing that she couldn’t say any of this aloud, she said, “Never mind.” 

 

* * *

 

Much to her disappointment, the fun didn’t end there. As soon Lucius arrived home from the Ministry, Narcissa saw it fit to inform him of the good news. After giving them his congratulations, Lucius stole away to his office. Bethany thought nothing of it at the time. 

 

However, when she arrived to dinner and saw her Father seated in Lucius’s normal spot, she knew what he had done. Indignation filled her at once. Why, in the name of all that was holy, did  _he_ have to be here? This was slowly turning into one of the worst days of her life...and somehow she suspected Hogwarts wouldn’t be much better. 

 

“Congratulations, Bethany,” Father said as Narcissa directed her towards the chair closest to him. “I trust you will make me proud.” 

 

Bethany said nothing, staring down at her empty plate. Considering his idea of being a good prefect entailed setting giant snakes loose in the castle, it was unlikely she would meet his standards. “I understand Draco is a prefect as well,” Father said, and thus Bethany tuned the conversation out. 

 

When the meal was finished, the Malfoys stood up to leave. Bethany, half in a daze, began to follow suit until Father said, “I would appreciate it if you would stay here, Bethany. After all, I won’t see you again until the Christmas holidays.” 

 

Bethany froze in place. “Oh. Okay.” She sat back down as the Malfoys walked out of the dining room, oblivious to the fact Draco was craning his head around. 

 

When the door closed, the dining room was silent. Bethany’s hands sat folded in her lap, though her leg bounced up and down, belying her anxieties. 

 

“I trust you are excited to be returning to Hogwarts?” 

 

For the first time ever, her immediate thought wasn’t  Yes.  It was hard to feel excited about school when your friends weren’t talking to you. But nevertheless, she lied and said, “I’m always happy to return to Hogwarts.”

 

Father nodded. “I felt the same way each summer. Hogwarts was the first place I felt comfortable to call my home.” 

 

Bethany wished he would stop talking. Hogwarts had also been her first real home as well, and she didn’t like being reminded of how similar their pasts were. Or, rather, she hated being reminded of _any_ similarities between them. 

 

“This is a very important year for you, Bethany,” he began, and she recognized that he was about to started his version of a paternal speech.  _Oh, joy_. “For a variety of reasons.” He paused before saying, “So I hope you will allow me to impart some fatherly advice.” 

 

Bethany said nothing. How could she? He was a homicidal maniac, after all. She prepared herself for the worst. 

 

Father folded his skeletal hands atop the table, his wand nowhere in sight. “I know that last year there were quite a few  _rumors_ about you.” Bethany did her best to ignore the blush creeping onto her cheeks. “Thankfully, none of them were true. But I must confess, I was very worried nonetheless. I do not think it appropriate for you to be consorting with boys when you should be studying for your upcoming examinations.”

 

Bethany blinked. She had thought he would say something like  _Stay away from Harry Potter_ or  _Kill all the Muggleborns_.  She definitely hadn’t expect him to weigh in on her lamentable love life and his desire that it remain lamentable. 

 

Naturally, as it always seemed to, her mind wandered to Fred. She’d been longing for him to see her as more than Ron’s friend for years now. It seemed unfair for him to ask this of her— to sacrifice a possibility of her happiness just so he could set his mind at ease over her OWL results. “But what if I made sure it didn’t interfere with my studies?” She inquired. 

 

“I am afraid that it would disappoint me greatly,” he said, sounding tense, “to know my daughter was ignoring my express wishes.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “You are my daughter, whether you like it or not. And I expect you to act like it. Therefore, if I discover that you have disobeyed me, whomever the young man you have decided to entangle yourself with shall pay the price.”

 

Every fantasy about spending a winter’s day in Hogsmeade with Fred was abandoned. She couldn’t put him at risk like that... “Oh,” she said quietly. 

 

There was a silence as she stared down at the grains of wood on the table. “I know it must seem unfair,” Father started, sounding less cold, “but I would hate for you to end up following the same path as your mother.” 

 

Bethany’s head snapped up. Instead of flaring with anger, she couldn’t help but feel the familiar ebbing of sorrow. “Why,” she asked, her voice barely louder than a whisper, “do you hate her so much?” Hadn’t he loved her at some point? Cherished her? How could he have had a  child  if he hadn’t care about her in some capacity?

 

“I did not hate Delilah.” He stated it as plainly as one would say  _The sky is blue._ “However, I understand how you may have had that impression. The truth is your mother and I ended things on, ah, a bad note.” 

 

Bethany frowned. “What do you mean?” Had her mother grown weary of being with a murderer? Had she walked away from him? Had she died shortly thereafter? She had so many questions.

 

“Your mother was an emotional creature,” he said. Bethany couldn’t help but think he was speaking about a cute puppy instead of an adult woman. “And unfortunately she was very naïve. She thought life was a fairy tale and that I was her Prince Charming.” He scoffed. “But... I must confess, I do not regret my time with her. She was very helpful to my cause in so many ways...”

 

He trailed off, his mind a million miles away. It was right then her heart softened towards him; he had cared about her mother after all. And maybe— just maybe— he cared about her, too. Maybe there was actually a man beneath the monstrous exterior. Someone who could love... and was capable of  some  goodness.

 

“You remind me of her,” he confessed, hands flattening against the table’s surface. “She was shy, just as you are. Very soft spoken.” 

 

Bethany’s lips twitched as she held back a smile. Her reticent nature was something struggled with often, but to know her mother was the same way made her feel better about it. 

 

“She made me promise, before you were even born, that I would not any harm fall on you,” he uttered. “I may have failed in that promise before, but I do not intend to falter now.” 

 

Bethany didn’t know whether to be reassured for frightened by this sentiment. Nevertheless, she said, “Thank you,” if for nothing else than to fill the silence. 

 

There was another awkward gap before he rose to his feet. “It is getting late,” he said. “I must depart. I shall see you over the Christmas holidays. If you want to write me a letter, send it to Lucius and he’ll see that it is delivered to me.” 

 

Bethany nodded, bidding him farewell before he left Malfoy Manor, Apparating away. She supposed she shouldn’t be surprised by this clinical, cool goodbye. He divorced himself away from societal norms unless somebody else was in the room. 

 

She let out a sigh of relief before heading upstairs to pack. 

 

* * *

 

Bethany and Draco awkwardly walked down the hallway in pursuit of the prefect car. Neither of them wishing to go alone and they had wordlessly decided to undertake the adventure together. However, Bethany had no idea what to even begin to say to Draco and they were trapped in a strange, uneasy sort of silence. 

 

Draco was the first to break. “Do you know who the male prefect from Ravenclaw is?” 

 

Bethany, surprised he was willing to speak to her, shook her head. “Do you know the other Slytherin prefect?” 

 

“No.”

 

They were finally standing before the door. Bethany turned her head to look at Draco. 

 

“You first—“

 

“You can go—“

 

They broke off, nervously laughing. Bethany ended up being the one to step in first. 

 

The compartment was different from what Bethany had envisioned— and less elaborate than she had hoped for. It was, for all intents and purposes, an ordinary train car, sans the compartments. It was quite small, albeit large enough to seat everyone. The head boy and head girl were already there, whispering to one another. Several older prefects had gathered there as well, and but Hannah Abbot and Eddie Macmillan were the only ones from their year. Unwilling to go talk to them, Bethany and Draco found a seat to rest on. 

 

“We’ll have access to the prefect’s bathroom this year,” Draco remarked suddenly. “That will be nice.” 

 

Bethany agreed. “I’ve heard it’s quite relaxing.” Harry has claimed it was, at any rate. “Though you may want to be careful,” she warned him, “Moaning Myrtle likes to go in there sometimes.”

 

Draco’s eyebrows shot up. “Really? Well that sounds awful.” 

 

They were silent once more. “I hope Michael Corner isn’t the Ravenclaw prefect,” Bethanysaid, desperately trying to fill the silence. 

 

“Yeah,” Draco said, without much emotion. “He seems like a prat.” 

 

“He doesn’t like me.”

 

“Why not?” 

 

“Because of... well, you know.” When the look he gave her made it clear that he did not understand, she leaned over and whispered, “My father.” 

 

Draco blinked. “Oh. That’s a stupid reason.”

 

“Yeah.” 

 

“How did he end up in Ravenclaw anyway?” He sneered, his personality finally bleeding through the painfully polite façade. “He doesn’t seem terribly bright. Do you remember when he got bit by that plant last year in Herbology? What an idiot.”

 

Bethany laughed. She recalled the incident fondly, even though it occurred long before he had started being nasty towards her. “I don’t think he’s smart either, but I’m probably just biased. I dislike him just as much as he dislikes me.” 

 

Draco scoffed, only to tense up when his eyes fell on the doorway. “Damn,” he muttered. 

 

“What?” Bethany asked, but there was no need. Pansy Parkinson was strutting into the car, a prefect badge pinned to her chest. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she said, justloud enough so Draco could hear her. “Snape couldn’t have actually appointed her.” Surely her favorite professor couldn’t have betrayed her in such a way!

 

“This is just fantastic,” Draco groaned as Pansy finally spotted them both. However, instead of glowering at them (well— instead of glowering at  _Bethany_ ), she seemed sad. She wandered through the compartment until she found an empty seat. 

 

“Good luck dealing with that this year,” Bethany murmured to Draco. Her disdain had yet to fade. 

 

“I’ll need it.” He glances up at the door again. “Your little friends are here.” 

 

Bethany wanted to roll her eyes— who was he? Her father?— but she merely turned to see Ron and Hermione enter. They were deep in conversation but knowing Ron and Hermione, they were bickering. Either way, they looked as if they were enjoying themselves. 

 

Upon seeing Bethany, Ron and Hermione’s face mirrored excitement before turning into hesitation once they spotted Draco beside her. Bethany’s gaze flickered over to Draco. She didn’t want him to go away... not after they had just started speaking to each other again. 

 

“Aren’t you going to say hello?” He asked, arching an eyebrow. 

 

“Maybe in a little while,” she found herself saying, adjusting herself so she could sit closer to him. “I can sit with them later.” 

 

They were silent once more, but it was more companionable than before. Bethany took the opportunity to listen in to other conversations— Ernie was complaining about Justin Finch-Fletchey’s younger sister, which was somewhat amusing. Pansy was talking to the sixth year Slytherin prefects, taking time to mournfully glance over to Draco. 

 

“Alright, is everybody here?” Crystin asked, standing in the center of the room. Bethany was about to ask about her fellow prefect when she noticed Anthony Goldstein, who was seated next to Ernie. She felt a pang of sadness— she had hoped Terry might get the position. Out of all Ravenclaw boys, she knew him the best. 

 

Crystin introduced herself and Ewan and thus began a long lecture that consisted mostly of reminding them what constituted as rule breaking. Bethany grew bored halfway through it, leaning back and stretching out her legs. Honestly, did they think they were daft? Anyone with common sense would know that abusing Muggle drugs and roaming the hallways past curfew was an offense.

 

Finally, once the meeting wound down, Ewan began passing out time tables. “The fifth year Hufflepuffs with have the first patrol once arrive to the castle,” said Crystin, speaking loud enough to be heard amongst the chattering. “After that, it’s the sixth year Gryffindors. Any questions?” 

 

“I’m ready to leave,” Draco mumbled, sitting on the edge of his seat as Ewan approached them. “This is boring.” 

 

Bethany agreed, her eyes darting over to Ron and Hermione. A part of her yearned to go over and talk to them but her own anxieties stopped her. What if they didn’t actually want to be her friends anymore? What if they had been barely tolerating her? What if there was no secret at all, aside from their growing disdain towards her? 

 

Bethany thanked Ewan as he handed them their time tables. Her first patrol with Anthony began tomorrow at nine o’clock. That wasn’t too bad...

 

“Dammit!” Draco clenched his time table. Bethany leaned over, reading over his times. His first patrol was at eleven o’clock tomorrow night. She winced. Thankfully, her time slots weren’t nearly so late. 

 

“Oh, no,” she said, giving him a sympathetic look. 

 

“This is rubbish,” he muttered. “I’m leaving.” 

 

Bethany opened her mouth to stop him before she realized all the other prefects were rising to their feet. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll see you later then, yeah?” 

 

Draco nodded. “Yeah... see you around.” Before Bethany could say anything else he walked away, stalking out of the prefect carriage. 

 

She sighed, finally standing. She supposed she should go speak to Ron and Hermione now. The pair was standing up by their seats, whispering furiously to one another. She could help but they seemed closer than ever before... hopefully romance was on the wing. 

 

When Hermione spotted her, she interrupted whatever Ron was saying to shriek, “Bethany!” and hug her fiercely. Bethany stared at Ron with wide eyes as Hermione’s arms did their best impression of a boa constrictor. 

 

“We’ve missed you!” Ron said emphatically, pulling her into a tight hug of his own (but thankfully one that didn’t bruise her ribs). 

 

“Come on, let’s find Harry!” Hermione was practically bouncing with excitement. 

 

Bethany shared an amused smile with Ron. Thing felt normal again, as if there had been no separation between them at all. She couldn’t help but breathe a mental sigh of relief— her friends didn’t secretly hate her after all. 

 

The three of them managed to locate Harry, who was sharing a compartment with Ginny, Neville, and Luna. After exchanging greetings with them all (including a hug from Harry, along with a bar of chocolate— “It’s a late birthday present,” he explained), Bethany was suddenly aware that there were six seats and seven people inside the compartment. “Maybe I can squeeze in somewhere,” she said as the realization dawned on everyone else. After all, that’s what they usually did in these scenarios— more often than not, when seating was tight, due to her small size, Bethany found herself wedged in between Ron and Harry. 

 

“Oh, that’s alright,” Luna said dreamily. Her blonde hair was pulled into a pony tail, allowing everyone to see her infamous radish earrings. “I’ll just sit on Neville’s lap. Then we’ll all have enough room.”

 

Hermione’s eyes widened as Luna inched her way onto Neville’s lap, oblivious that nearly everyone in the compartment had some sort of opinion on the matter. Neville’s face was pink, but he said nothing to stop her. Ron, however, seemed seconds away from laughter. 

 

Bethany sat next to Luna and Neville, somewhat uncomfortable yet not entirely disapproving. Hermione, who was on the opposite side of Bethany, kept shooting Luna nasty looks. 

 

“So,” Bethany said, looking across the compartment to look at Harry specifically. “What was it you thr— four,” she corrected, remembering Ginny was there as well, “got up to this summer?”

 

Bethany felt Hermione stiffen beside her. Ron and Harry were exchanging worried glances. “Um,” Harry said, awkwardly, looking pointedly at Neville and Luna, who were reading  _The Quibbler_ together, appearing quite cozy. “Uh, you see, it’s uh...”

 

“Oh for heaven’s sakes,” Ginny exclaimed exasperatedly. “Hermione, just whisper it!” 

 

Hermione bit her lip, seeming very worried. Finally, she cupped a hand around Bethany’s ear. “We were with the Order of the Phoenix,” Hermione said, very quietly. “It’s an organization—“

 

That was it? That was their momentous secret? Irritated, Bethany said, “I  _know_ what it is!”

 

Ron’s eyes bugged out of his head. “But how?” Hermione asked, voice shrill.

 

“Because my—“ she stopped, suddenly annoyed by Neville and Luna’s presence. She wracked her mind for something only they would get before saying, “Uh,  _Tom_ told me.” 

 

Bethany didn’t miss the way Ginny flinched. “Sorry,” she said without a second thought. She should have said something else. Ginny was, no doubt, just traumatized as her by that damnable diary...

 

“It’s fine,” Ginny said, but she didn’t sound fine. In fact, her skin was taking on a white pallor. 

 

“How does  _he_ know?” Harry demanded. 

 

“I don’t know,” said Bethany, shrugging her shoulders. “He made it sound like it wasn’t even a secret.” 

 

“He doesn’t know where they’re at though, right?” Ron spoke up. He was on the edge of his seat, elbows resting on his legs as he leaned forward. 

 

“I don’t think so,” she replied. “I mean, I think you would know if he did.”

 

The relief was palpable. “We’re really sorry we couldn’t tell you,” said Hermione genuinely. “Harry was really angry with us for hiding it from him—“

 

“Don’t deny it,” Ron said as Harry opened his mouth. “You were furious, mate.” 

 

“—and we know you must feel the same,” she concluded. “We wanted to tell you, but—“

 

“It’s okay,” Bethany said, her previous anger irritation dissipating. Their silence made plenty of sense— especially when she was dining with the Dark Lord at least once a week. If he had intercepted anything... “It would have been stupid for you to send me anything in writing.” 

 

Ron and Hermione’s tension seemed to disappear as she said it. “I’m so glad you understand,” Hermione said, smiling. 

 

Ginny, sensing there was no point continuing the conversation with Luna and Neville in the same compartment, said, “So how was the prefect meeting, Ron?”

 

Ron launched into telling them who the prefects from the other houses were before saying, “And guess who the Slytherin prefect is?”

 

“Malfoy?” Harry answered glumly. 

 

“Course,” Ron grimaced. 

 

Bethany, uncomfortable, shifted in her seat. It was hard, being stuck in the middle between them. Whenever Draco insulted her friends, she never hesitated to defend them. But when they expressed their distaste for him? What could she do? Draco was, as much as she hated to admit it, a bully. 

 

“And that complete cow Pansy Parkinson,” Hermione cut in, seeming to sense her discomfort. “How she got be a prefect when she’s thicker than a concussed troll—“

 

At this, Bethany laughed— but surprisingly, Luna laughed even harder. Her magazine fell to the floor as she dissolved into a fit of giggles. “Concussed—“ she gasped for air, “—troll!”

 

Neville, through all of this, was beaming at her as if she were a... a... beautiful Mandrake. Or some sort of magical plant. Bethany couldn’t bring herself to think up a better analogy— Herbology continued to be her least favorite subject, but she knew Neville loved plants. 

 

“Can I look at this?” Harry asked, picking up Luna’s copy of  _The Quibbler_ after she had calmed down. 

 

“Oh, go ahead,” said Luna, now more distracted by Neville’s hair. She ran her fingers through it, staring down at him adoringly, oblivious to the fact that her feet were now residing on Bethany’s lap as she twisted herself around to admire her boyfriend. 

 

Harry paged through it, his surprise evident with each facial expression he made. Bethany was finding a hard time suppressing her laughter. On bad days, Bethany loved borrowing a copy of the magazine from Luna so she could have a good laugh. At first she thought it was satire at first only to be informed by Roger Davies that it was intended to be taken completely seriously. 

 

“Anything good in there?” Ron asked, grinning. 

 

Hermione scoffed. “Of course not.  _The Quibbler_ is rubbish, everyone knows that!”

 

Bethany froze. The entire compartment grew silent. Oh God... Hermione didn’t know. 

 

“Excuse me,” Luna said, tearing her eyes away from Neville to fix Hermione with an icy glare, “My father is the editor.” 

 

Hermione began backpedaling at once. “Oh! I— uh, of course, I mean, it’s very interesting—“

 

“I’ll have that back, thank you,” said Luna, standing up to snatch the magazine from Harry’s hand. “Neville, I’m going to the loo. Please hold onto this for me.” She handed it off to him before pressing a kiss to his cheek and leaving the compartment. 

 

Everyone was left in a stunned silence. Finally, Neville, speaking up for nearly the first time since Bethany, Ron, and Hermione entered the compartment, said, “That wasn’t very nice, Hermione.”

 

Hermione gaped. “Well, how was I to know her father was the editor? No one told me!”

 

“It doesn’t matter,” Neville said sadly. “You know, a lot of people make fun of her for stuff like this.” He held up the magazine. “She’s really sensitive, even though she doesn’t show it.”

 

Hermione, who was properly embarrassed by now, didn’t respond, simply staring down at her lap. 

 

“I’m going to go talk to her,” Neville continued, rising to his feet. “Just... try and be nice to her. I— I really care about her.” He gave them a weak smile before stepping out of the compartment,  _Quibbler_ in his hands. 

 

“Poor Neville,” Ginny said softly, still looking at the door. 

 

Bethany didn’t know what to say. Hermione refused to look at anyone, head bowed. She tried to signal Ron to comfort her, but he seemed to be in a silent conversation with Harry over what just happened. 

 

It was a while before any of them spoke again. 

 

* * *

 

 

Prefects had to supervise the process of evacuating the train. Bethany found herself standing next to Anthony Goldstein, directing first years to a woman called Professor Grubbly-Plank (who explained, much to Bethany’s chagrin, that she was filling in for Hagrid this year) and making sure nobody was breaking any rules. Anthony had said nothing to her thus far, which made the whole situation awkward. 

 

When it seemed everyone had left the train, all the prefects filed out, ready to take their carriages to the school. Bethany was approaching the carriages as Ron disappeared into one, shutting the door. The carriage then rolled up to the castle. 

 

Much to both her relief and displeasure, Draco and Pansy were also approaching the carriages. Like Bethany and Anthony, there seemed to be a distinct air of awkwardness. At least she wasn’t the only person not getting on with their partner...

 

The seventh year Ravenclaw prefects Niall Eaton and Stephanie Fawcett climbed into the carriage. In the heat of the moment, Bethany darted away from Anthony’s side to grab Draco by the wrist and all but drag him away from Pansy and into the carriage. Stephanie and Niall gaped at them both, but Bethany couldn’t bring herself to care as the carriage pulled away. She didn’t even bother wondering what Anthony must be thinking right now, let alone Pansy’s reaction it to it all. 

 

“Thanks,” Draco finally said, once the shock had worn off. 

 

“You’re welcome. I thought you might need an escape. God knows I did.”

 

“What’s wrong with Goldstein?”

 

She shrugged. “He doesn’t like me. He hasn’t even said a single word to me. There’s no way I wanted to be trapped in a carriage with him.” 

 

They chatted the rest of the way to the castle, ignoring the looks they were receiving from Stephanie and Niall. Draco complained about the way Pansy had been trying to get his attention whilst Bethany gave him an abridged version of the dispute between Luna and Hermione. “It was so uncomfortable,” she finished as they climbed out of the carriage and towards the castle. “They wouldn’t even look at each other when Luna came back.” 

 

Draco, meanwhile, seemed to be a couple steps behind. “So Longbottom really told Granger off?”

 

Bethany nodded. “Yeah. And he even managed to do it the ‘I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed’ kind of way.” She shuddered. 

 

Draco let out a bark of laughter. “Merlin, I wish I could have been there! That’s real entertainment! I had to sit and listen to Goyle talk about his Crup’s hemorrhoids.”

 

“What?” Bethany covered her mouth, trying to stop herself from giggling. 

 

“He wouldn’t stop talking about it! It was driving me mad!”

 

By the time they arrived to the Great Hall, the rest of the students were waiting for the first years to come in for their sorting. Bethany said goodbye to Draco and sought out Padma and Terry. 

 

After saying their hellos, Padma let out a gasp. “You’re a prefect! Congratulations! I was wondering if it would be you!”

 

“Thanks,” Bethany said, feeling a bit shy.

 

Padma craned her head. “Where’s Anthony? Isn’t he with you?”

 

“I kind of ditched him,” she admitted, suddenly feeling shame. Sure, Anthony wasn’t exactly being the most friendly... but then again, it seemed rude to just leave him...

 

“Why?” Terry asked, whilst Padma let out a laugh. 

 

“Uh... well, he didn’t seem to want to talk to me. So he didn’t. At all.” 

 

Terry frowned, pressing his lips together. “I’ll talk to him about it,” he said, quite determined. “Don’t worry about him. He’s just... just don’t worry.”

 

Bethany cracked a smile. “Thank you for sending me that family tree, by the way,” she said genuinely. “I really appreciated it.”

 

Terry beamed. “It’s no problem— if you’d like, I can help you find more information about the Shafiqs this year. We might be able to find some Riddle stuff, too—“

 

“Oh, that’s fine,” Bethany interrupted. If they delved too deeply into the Riddle family history, Terry would find himself staring at the indisputable knowledge that Bethany really was Voldemort’s daughter. And who knows what kind of sinister secrets he was hiding about his own past? There were probably accounts of her father that were too horrific for her to even begin imagining. “I know a little bit about my dad already—“  _Like the fact he looks like a snake and hates green beans_ _._ “My mum’s side is pretty much unknown.”

 

Terry nodded. “Okay,” he agreed, and before he could say anything else, the first years filed into the Great Hall, drinking in the sights and whispering excitedly to one another. 

 

The Sorting Hat sang an ominous song, but Bethany tried not to think about it to much. After all, it was just a hat. There’s no way a hat could predict the future... right? 

 

“Abercrombie, Euan!” Professor McGonagall called out, and a small boy with large ears walked up to the stool. He was sorted into Gryffindor quickly. 

 

“Boot, Sarah!” 

 

“That’s my little cousin,” Terry said, grinning from ear to ear as a blonde girl walked to the front of the Great Hall. “She’ll be in Ravenclaw, I’m sure of it.”

 

He was right. Sarah hopped off the stool, scanning the table until she spotted Terry and sat next to him. Terry introduced her to Bethany and Padma as “Bosworth, Kyle!” was sorted into Gryffindor. 

 

The rest of the Sorting seemed to fly by and before Bethany knew it, she was dining on a scrumptious feast of potatoes and chicken. 

 

“Well, now that we are all digesting another magnificent feast, I beg a few moments of your attention for the usual start-of-term notices,” Dumbledore began immediate after the feast concluded. He proceeded to remind students to not venture into the Forbidden Forest or to use magic in the hallways— both of which were routine warnings given at the beginning of each school year. However, his third point of business was more interesting. “We have had two changes in staffing this year. We are very pleased to welcome Professor Grubbly-Plank, who will be taking Care of Magical Creatures lessons; we are also delighted to introduce Professor Umbridge, our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.”

 

Bethany suddenly noticed a short woman, dressed from head to toe in a garish shade of pink. “Oh, no,” Bethany heard Padma mutter as the rest of the hall gave the professors and perfunctory clap. “Not  _her_.”

 

“What do you mean?” She asked, brow furrowed. 

 

Padma cast a dark look on the woman. “My dad works at the Ministry and he says she is awful.” 

 

Bethany frowned. That wasn’t comforting. 

 

Dumbledore went to resume his speech. “Quidditch tryouts will be—“

 

“ _Hem hem_ .”

 

Professor Umbridge has risen to her feet. The other professors exchanged dubious looks, clearly disapproving her actions— none of them looking so taken aback than Professor Snape, who was looking at Professor Umbridge as if she were a bug he had smashed with his shoe. Dumbledore, however, seemed to take the interruption with ease and sat down as Professor Umbridge began her own speech. 

 

“Thank you, Professor, for your kind words of welcome.” Her voice was oddly saccharine. “Well, it is lovely to be back at Hogwarts, I must say! And to see such happy little faces looking up at me!”

 

Bethany glanced over to Terry, who looked as perturbed as she felt. Did she think they were five years old? This felt like the first day of primary school, not first year!

 

“I am very much looking forward to getting to know you all and I’m sure we’ll be very good friends!”

 

“I’ll be her friend as long as I don’t have to wear that ugly cardigan,” Padma whispered, just loud enough for Bethany and Terry to hear and subsequently try not to laugh at. 

 

Any sweetness in Professor Umbridge’s voice seemed to vanish as she launched into the next part of her speech. “The Ministry of Magic has always considered the education of young witches and wizards to be of vital importance. The rare gifts with which you were born may come to nothing if not nurtured and honed by careful instruction. The ancient skills unique to the wizarding community must be passed down the generations lest we lose them for ever. The treasure trove of magical knowledge amassed by our ancestors must be guarded, replenished and polished by those who have been called to the noble profession of teaching.”

 

Here, she decided to turn around and bow to her fellow professors, all of whom seemed bemused by this odd display. However, she was undeterred and carried on. “Every headmaster and headmistress of Hogwarts has brought something new to the weighty task of governing this historic school, and that is as it should be, for without progress there will be stagnation and decay. There again, progress for progress’s sake must be discouraged, for our tried and tested traditions often require no tinkering. A balance, then, between old and new, between permanence and change, between tradition and innovation, between purebloods and Muggleborns—“

 

Bethany started at this. Why was she bringing up blood status? Uneasy, her eyes roved the hall to see if anyone else was disturbed by this, but most everyone seemed to have tuned her out. 

 

“—Let us move forward, then, into a new era of openness, effectiveness and accountability, intent on preserving what ought to be preserved, perfecting what needs to be perfected, and pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited.”

 

Dumbledore began the round of applause, followed by the other faculty members, who seemed less enthusiastic. 

 

Once the feast properly ended, Bethany was tasked with directing the first years to the Common Room with Anthony. He managed to take the lead, parroting a speech similar to the one they had heard as first years whilst Bethany made sure none of the first years wandered off. 

 

Upon arriving to the Common Room, Bethany discovered that many of the older students had huddled around. Bethany noticed Roger Davies was in the middle of this gathering. “What’s this?” Bethany asked Terry quietly as she approached the group. 

 

“We’re talking about Umbridge’s speech,” he replied, lips twisted into a frown. “Well, rather, we’re debating it. Some think it’s fine that the Ministry is stepping into Hogwarts, but most of us don’t like it.”

 

“Well, why shouldn’t they oversee what’s going on here?” Lilith Fenwick-Phillips, a sixth year, asked, pouting as she did so. “In the Muggle world, the government regulates what goes on in schools. I don’t see the difference.” 

 

“But we’re  _wizards_ , not Muggles!” Roland Riggs exclaimed. 

 

“So? Muggles have plenty of good ideas!” Lilith retorted, crossing her arms. 

 

“Nobody is saying they don’t!” Roger said, clearly attempting to pacify her. “It’s just that a lot of us know that Umbridge is— well, she’s downright nasty. Bigoted, too, even though she tries to hide it. Just... be wary of her, that’s all.”

 

Bethany frowned. All this commotion and chaos surrounding Umbridge was making her head spin. “I think I’m going to bed,” she told Terry. “See you tomorrow.” 

 

“Night, Bethany,” Terry said distractedly, still concentrated on the debate at hand.

 

As Bethany tucked herself into bed, she couldn’t help but think that this year at Hogwarts might be the worst yet. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!


	26. Chapter Twenty Five: Few Honest People

**Momento Mori**

**Chapter Twenty Five: Few Honest People**

The dungeon was silent, save for the sound of Hippogriff talons being placed with precision and care upon a scale. Bethany stood in the doorway, her class schedule grasped in her hands. Professor Snape was facing the front of the classroom, deep in thought as he measured out the ingredients.

Hesitantly, she took a step into the classroom. "Professor?"

Professor Snape whirled around, his black robes fanning around him. "Bethany!" His face arranged itself into a genial expression. "I've heard you've been made a prefect. Congratulations to you."

"Thank you, sir," Bethany said with a smile, but it didn't make its way to her eyes. She still hadn't forgotten that he had appointed her worst enemy as the Slytherin prefect... but this probably wasn't the time to bring it up.

"How are you doing?" He asked, picking up on her discontentment. "I realize this summer was likely quite... tasking for you."

"It was," she admitted. "But thanks to you, nothing—" She tried to think of a delicate way to phrase it before saying, "He doesn't know anything he shouldn't."

He offered her a thin yet genuine smile. "I'm pleased to hear it."

Before she could say anything else, a group of Hufflepuffs strolled into the classroom, chatting amongst one another. "Perhaps we can arrange to speak after lessons," Professor Snape said, a scowl creeping across his lips as Susan Bones let out a loud peal of laughter. Before Bethany could say anything, he had departed, making his way to the front of the classroom.

The dungeon soon began filling up with even more students, most of the Ravenclaws gravitating towards the front of the classroom and the Hufflepuffs clinging near the back. Bethany expected either Padma or Terry to join her, but was instead surprised by Anthony taking the seat next to her. "Morning," he said with a nod.

"Morning," she echoed. This was pleasant chance... and probably Terry's doing. Bethany craned her head around searching for him amongst the sea of blue-tied students, only to realize he was on the opposite side of the classroom near the back next to Justin Finch-Fletchey. They seemed to be in the midst of an animated conversation... or at least, animated from Justin's side of things. Terry appeared to be nodding along. Bethany suspected he was humoring the other boy.

Professor Snape began the lesson with a lecture on the upcoming OWLs and his expectations for his NEWT level students before instructing them to brew a Drought of Living Peace. Bethany wasted no time in collecting her ingredients, eyes following the directions on the board carefully.

"Why are you doing that?" Anthony asked as she sliced a frog's liver into tiny pieces. "You're supposed to crush it."

"If you slice it first, you can extract more bile," she explained, pressing the heel of her hand against the blade of her knife.

Anthony watched her thoughtfully before mimicking her.

At the end of the lesson, Professor Snape swept across the classroom. He said nothing to Anthony, which meant that nothing was wrong with it. However, when he stood in front of her cauldron, he inspected it with great scrutiny. She held her breath.

"Excellent work, Miss Riddle," he praised her. He didn't smile, but then again, that was the norm for Professor Snape.

"Thank you, Professor."

He carried on, walking over to where Ernie Macmillan and Hannah Abbot were seated. "Thanks for the tip," Anthony said lowly. "You're not half bad at Potions."

Bethany smiled. "Thanks."

And thus began the tentative friendship between them.

* * *

The fifth year Ravenclaws, for once, did their best to dawdle on their way to Professor Umbridge's class. They were going to be the first class of the fifth year to have her— and they were none too excited about it. Moving as a pack, Bethany hung close to Padma and Terry.

"Mine was awful," lamented Padma as they climbed up the stairs, "I'm so bad at Potions. I can't wait to drop it next year."

"You can't," Terry said, an amused smile crossing his features. "That is, not if you want to be a Healer."

Padma groaned.

All ten of them arrived to the Defense classroom a mere three minutes before the lesson began. Umbridge's back was to them as she busied herself with some sort of task. Wordlessly, the Ravenclaws took their seats, with Bethany seated by Padma this time.

When it was officially time for class to begin, Professor Umbridge finally turned around. Now that she was closer to them, Bethany could make her out properly. Professor Umbridge resembled a toad... and a not very good looking toad at that. Still, Bethany was never one to judge other's by their appearance.

"Good morning, class!" She trilled.

Silence. Bethany saw one of her hands clench. "My, my," she tutted. "Where are your manners? Please reply 'Good morning, Professor Umbridge', just as your mothers taught you to!"

Bethany did her best to ignore the look of pity Padma gave her as they all chorused, "Good morning, Professor Umbridge," with no emotion whatsoever. So far, this woman wasn't winning awards for _Most Tactful Professor of the Year._

"There! That's better!" Professor Umbridge clapped her hands together. "Please put your wands away and take out your quills!"

No wands? For Defense? Perhaps today was a lecture... Bethany didn't question it, shoving her wand into her pockets.

Professor Umbridge gave them a smile before turning around and tapping the blackboard with her wand. Words appeared, written in white chalk. Bethany squinted, straining to see but unable to make out the words.

"It is so heartbreaking," Professor Umbridge said, clasping her hands over her heart, "to know that bright young minds at Hogwarts have never had a stable education in the matter of Defense! Your previous professors have been negligent, abandoning the Ministry sanctioned requirements which unfortunately means you are all woefully behind for your OWLs! You will be pleased to know, however, that these problems are now to be rectified. We will be following a carefully structured, theory-centred, Ministry-approved course of defensive magic this year. Copy down the following, please."

Theory centered? Padma and Bethany exchanged a look as Professor Umbridge waved her wand to conjure up a numbered list. The Ravenclaws took their notes obediently, though judging by the looks of indifference and a few scowls, it was clear they were unhappy. Bethany squinted yet again, but the words were no clearer than before. In a moment of panic, Bethany began writing down nonsense in the hopes Umbridge wouldn't notice she had no idea what was going on. She could ask Padma later...

"Has everybody got a copy of _Defensive Magical Theory_ by Wilbert Slinkhard?" Professor Umbridge asked when everyone was done writing.

A few people nodded, some mumbled "Yes", but most of the class stayed silent, digging through their book bags. Bethany was one of them, and she missed the flash of irritation of Professor Umbridge's face. "Goodness me, not again! When I ask you a question, I would like you to _answer_ me by saying "Yes, Professor Umbridge," or "No, Professor Umbridge." Now, let's try that again. Has everybody got a copy of _Defensive Magical Theory_ by Wilbert Slinkhard?"

"Yes, Professor Umbridge," the Ravenclaws said in a dull unison.

"Good," she chirped, walking to the front of the classroom. "I would like you all to read the first chapter silently. Do not ask your partner any questions while you read."

Was she serious? They were just... reading? They wouldn't practice anything? Baffled, Bethany turned to Padma, who was scowling in Professor Umbridge's general direction as she opened up her textbook.

The rest of the class period was wretched. Bethany felt herself losing concentration with each word she read. There were long, run on sentences that jumped about describing advanced theories of Defensive magic with words she never even read before. Bethany looked up once or twice, just to give her eyes a break and found that Su Li, who was seated in front of her, had given up all attempts at reading that utter tripe and had sneakily managed to sneak a small comic book inside her book. Bethany admired her, yet was too scared to disobey a teacher and did her best to carry on.

By the end of the lesson, Bethany could hardly remember her own name. Her mind felt well and properly fried. "Does anybody have questions about what you just read?"

"Yeah," Bethany heard Isobel MacDougal mutter behind. "What did I just read?"

Terry's hand flew into the air immediately. "Yes, young man. What is your name?"

"Terry Boot," He replied, but before he could ask his question, there was a _hem hem._ The corners of his mouth twitched, but he bulldozed ahead, ignoring her interruption. "So am I to understand that there will be no practical lessons in this course from now on?"

"You would be correct, Mr. Boot," Professor Umbridge said, but all her sweetness seemed to vanish. The corners of her lips were pinched.

Michael raised his hand next. "Yes, and you are?"

"Michael Corner," He said. He waited for her to interrupt, and she did exactly that.

"I would like it if you would address me either as _ma'am_ or _Professor Umbridge_ when you answer my questions. It is the _polite_ thing to do," she said, taking a second to glare at Terry, who was unfazed.

"Professor Umbridge," Michael said, clearly only as a formality. "But what if we encounter some dark wizard somewhere? Shouldn't we be able to practice spells in class order to defend ourselves?"

"But Mr. Corner," she all but simpered, "You needn't worry about dark wizards! Anyone who has practiced dark magic has either been eradicated from society by either being imprisoned in Azkaban or through death."

Bethany scoffed, which was a mistake. Professor Umbridge turned her head to look at Bethany. "And who are you?" She asked, beady eyes fixed on Bethany with the utmost disdain.

Shrinking under the gaze of all her classmates and the professor, Bethany managed a timid "Bethany Riddle, Professor."

"And why, Miss Riddle, are you disputing the facts of the matter?"

Lisa Turpin was staring slack jawed at Bethany, nudging Michael. The pair of them looked like two children with an unlimited budget in a candy shop. They were waiting to see if it was true... if You-Know-Who was really her father...

And she wasn't about to let that happen.

"It's just... I believe, as humans, we all have the capacity to be either good or evil, but what determines it is our life experiences and choices are ultimately what shape is into the person we are," she stammered, knowing that a philosophical discussion on the duality of mankind wasn't going to satisfy Professor Umbridge, but realizing she couldn't very well say, " _You're wrong because You-Know-Who is my father and I spent loads of time with him this summer! Did you know he has a weird aversion to vegetables?"_

Professor Umbridge was unamused. "And what, pray tell, does this have to do with the subject at hand?"

"I just think that even though the dark wizards have been captured, anyone could be persuaded into following their darker urges with the help of dark magic," she explained, pulling an explanation out of her arse. "I mean, You-Know-Who wasn't _born_ evil. He was a regular baby. But something happened to him in his life that made him go all wrong. And I think that it could happen to loads of people—"

"And the Ministry shall catch them if such a thing were to happen," said Professor Umbridge, glaring at Bethany with unmistakable loathing.

Terry didn't even bother raising his hand. "So in the meantime, are we supposed to let some maniac just attack and kill us without being able to protect ourselves? Protect our families, our friends?"

Professor Umbridge whirled around. "Mr. Boot, please raise your hand if you wish to speak in my class!"

Anthony raised his hand and, after introducing himself, said, "Terry has a point, Professor. What if a dark wizard breaks into our home and tries to attack us before we can seek help from the Ministry?"

"But why on Earth would a dark wizard be breaking into your home, Mr. Goldstein?" She asked.

"Because my family has always opposed dark magic," he countered, chin stuck into the air proudly. "During the first war, my Uncle Linus was killed by Rabastan—"

"As Miss Riddle pointed out," Professor Umbridge interrupted, growing fed up with them, "only a small number of individuals succumb to the temptations of dark magic—"

"That's not what she said at all!" Terry burst out suddenly. "She said that _everybody_ could be a dark wizard, given the right circumstances!"

"Mr. Boot, if you wish to say something, please raise your hand!" Professor Umbridge said shrilly. "You are sailing perilously close to detention!" Her face was now the same color as her clothes. "As I was saying, the likelihood of anybody being attacked by a dark wizard is slim to none. Nobody needs to have any worries or fears about dark magic."

_Bullshit,_ Bethany thought. Professor Umbridge was a narrow minded, unobservant twit of a woman who enforced the Ministry's lies. People would die as a result of her negligence...

The lesson ended shortly thereafter, with the Ravenclaws racing for the door to escape the classroom. "Well, that went well," Padma murmured.

Terry, who had just joined them, was scowling. "That woman," he said between gritted teeth, "is the _scum_ of the Earth."

Nobody disputed him.

* * *

Bethany and Terry weren't the only students who had managed to earn Delores Umbridge's wrath. Harry had been sent to McGonagall's office and been given detention after only being in the classroom twenty minutes. Bethany, who was proud of Harry for speaking the truth, was worried about him. Professor Umbridge was not somebody she wanted to cross, by any means.

"Please be careful," Bethany urged him as they walked to Care of Magic Creatures together the following morning. "I've heard she's a really foul woman, Harry, and you don't need to upset her anymore."

"It's not my fault she isn't telling the truth!" Harry snapped, with more vitriol than was warranted.

"I know it's not," Bethany said, hurt he was lashing out at her. "I'm not saying that at all. I just think that you should be careful about what you say in front of her."

"Well, I'm not going to sit there and listen to her spout _lies_ when I saw him kill Cedric!" Harry exclaimed.

"We know, Harry," Hermione said, frowning. "We're not mad at you for it—"

Later, whilst Harry interrogated Professor Grubbly-Plank over the whereabouts of Hagrid, Hermione whispered, "He's been going through a lot lately. Don't take it personally, Bethany. He— he lashes out. A lot."

Bethany frowned. That wasn't like the Harry she knew. But then again, Harry had watched somebody _die_. Someone he was friends with. It wasn't impossible that he should be suffering from that traumatic experience.

"Do— Are there any Healers that deal with psychological issues?" Bethany asked. "I mean, I'm not saying anything but... do you think Harry might have PTSD or something?" Even though it was regarded mainly as an issue with veterans, Bethany remembered a seventeen year old boy named Jason Lee who lived at the orphanage for a year after his parents had died in a car accident. Jason had been with them in the car and afterwards had been diagnosed with the disorder. Bethany remembered the way he would sometimes break down whenever he heard police sirens going past the orphanage.

Hermione mulled it over. "It's a possibility," she acknowledged. "But I don't think the wizarding world has Healers for the mind, not the way Muggles do."

Bethany frowned, wondering, but Professor Grubbly-Plank began her lecture on unicorns and thus captured her attention.

Bethany had to (grudgingly) admit, Professor Grubbly-Plank was a very good teacher. She allowed the girls to step close to the pure white unicorn mare, who allowed them all to pet her. "Unicorns are suspicious creatures," Professor Grubbly-Plank said as the girls formed a line.

When it was Bethany's turn, she hesitated. The last experience she had with a unicorn wasn't the most pleasant... she couldn't believe her father could have slain a creature as beautiful and as docile as this. Gently, she reached out, stroking at the top of the unicorn's head. She remembered, as her hands ran through the silvery hair, that this what the core of her wand was made of. Ollivander has said he had sold her wand's twin the same day she had bought hers... but who owned that wand?

"Oh, Merlin's beard," Bethany heard Hermione grumble behind her. She turned to see Draco standing next to Harry, the latter's face turning redder and redder by the second.

_Oh hell,_ Bethany thought, giving the unicorn a goodbye pat before walking over to where the boys were. "What's going on?" She asked, loud enough to interrupt whatever sort of dispute was occurring.

"Nothing," said Draco innocently.

She narrowed her eyes. "It better not," Bethany warned. "Why don't you go talk to Professor Grubbly-Plank? She might be able to help Gregory's Crup."

Draco gaped at her for a moment or two before walking away, seeming torn between being annoyed and amused.

"Goyle's Crup?" Harry asked, cocking his head to the side.

"Don't ask."

Ron, meanwhile, was gobsmacked. "How did you do that?" He asked.

Bethany shrugged. "So what was he really doing?" She asked lowly.

Harry scowled in Draco's general direction. "He kept calling Hagrid an oaf." Bethany's jaw clenched. "He didn't get fired, did he? Hagrid, that is. Dumbledore wouldn't let it happen, would he?"

"Of course he wouldn't," Bethany assured him as Hermione joined them. "Draco's just being a git as normal. You shouldn't let him bother you, Harry."

"That's right," Hermione chimed in. "You can't go picking fights with him— he's a prefect now. He could make your life difficult."

"Wow, I wonder what it would be like to have a difficult life?" He replied sarcastically.

That sent Bethany and Ron into a hysterical fit of giggles.

* * *

Being a prefect wasn't nearly great as Draco had envisioned it. Somehow he had equated it to a symbol of status and prestige— but so far, it was just boring. The only good part was that he was finally able to deduct points from people who annoyed him; he was looking forward to catching Potter in the act and subtracting as many points as he possibly could.

But the worst part of being a prefect was having Pansy as a partner. They hadn't properly spoken to one another since last year after she went talking to Rita Skeeter. Father had practically forbidden Draco from interacting with her— which made prefect duties a difficult task.

The pair met up outside the prefect common room. "Hi," she said in a small voice. She was wringing her hands, bottom lip trapped between her teeth.

"Hi," he replied back. Before she could think of saying anything else, he cut in and said, "I'll take the second floor. Do you want to patrol the first floor?"

Pansy nodded. As Draco set off, she called out, "Wait!"

Draco spun around. Pansy's newfound confidence wavered whilst she took a deep breath. "Look... I'm really sorry about last year," she burst out. "I shouldn't have done it."

Draco blinked. Pansy was apologizing?

"I... I know she's your friend. Riddle, that is." The corners of her lip turned downward at the mention of Bethany. "And I'm not going to pretend I like her, but I shouldn't have told Skeeter about her father. That was out of line." Pansy paused as she took another deep breath in. "I know I made a mistake, but I would really like to be your friend again, Draco— if for nothing else than to make all this—" She waved her hands between them, "—less awkward."

He pondered it. Pansy, out of all the Slytherins, was one of the few people he had actually enjoyed spending time with. She laughed at all his jokes and he could easily laugh at hers. They had known each other since they were children... it seemed a shame to throw out a friendship.

He faltered though. "I'll need to speak with my father," he said slowly, "and Bethany. But I will consider it."

Pansy was smiling in seconds. "Of course," she said, sounding breathless. "Thank you, Draco. It means a lot." Her cheeks flushed, and she met his eyes, unable to hide the look of complete and utter adoration.

Draco pretended to not see it.

* * *

"How was detention with Umbridge last night?" Bethany asked sympathetically. Her and Harry had decided to meet up in the library to work on a Potions essay together— well, it was going to be more of an opportunity for her to make sure he would have a satisfactory essay to turn in to Snape. He had been there the last couple of nights— all he had said was that she made him write lines.

"Fine," he replied tersely. Bethany did a double take. Harry wasn't usually so short with her...

As he reached out to grab a book, Bethany spied what looked like scratched all across his hand. "What's that on your hand?"

"Nothing!" Harry insisted hastily, reaching to hide his hand in his pocket, but she reached out and caught his hand. He let out a yelp, but Bethany hardly noticed it. Her eyes were fixed on the pink markings all over his hand and in his own writing.

_I must not tell lies._

"Harry, what is this?" Nauseated, she looked up at him, only to find him stoic and defensive. Her mind jumped to worst. "Have you... did you do this to yourself?"

"What? No!" Bethany felt a wave of relief wash over her. "Well... technically, I have. But..." he trailed off, eyes distant and his whole body tending with unexpressed frustration.

"What do you mean _technically_?" She felt sick to her stomach, panic settling in.

Harry let out low sigh, jaw tightening. "That's— that's what I meant by _writing lines_." Her stomach dropped. "Umbridge has got this enchanted quill, and it... it does this."

Bethany released his hand, stunned and horrified. She found herself blinking rapidly, desperately trying to suppress the welling tears forming in her eyes. "Oh, Harry," she whispered. "This... this is..."

"It's foul," he said emotionlessly, unable to look at her. "I know."

"It's more than that," she said, regaining her strength. "It's _fucked up,_ Harry." His eyes widened at her language, but she hardly cared. "This is illegal! It has to be! She ought to go to prison for this!"

"Yeah, but the Ministry won't do anything about it," said Harry bitterly. "You know how they are these days. They'll claim I did it on my own and trying to frame her."

He was right; that's exactly what they would do. Merlin, this was _sick._ What sort of society were they living in where a teacher could inflict such abuse upon a traumatized teenager and get away with it? Bethany let out a stream of curses that would have made Ron blush.

"—what a wretched, spineless _hag_!" Bethany concluded, spitting out the words like a disgusted child would spit out broccoli. "Have you told Ron and Hermione yet?"

"No," he admitted.

"Why not?"

"Because it isn't going to make a difference!" Harry exclaimed, provoking Madam Pince into hushing him.

Bethany ignored her. "Harry, you know the three of us love you. A lot." Harry looked away from her but she continued, "We all hate to know that you are in pain... but what we hate more is when we _don't_ know you are in pain."

"I just— I don't want to cause trouble," Harry murmured. "You've got enough on your mind, with your dad and all, and Ron and Hermione—"

"Are more than willing to help you," she interrupted. "And you aren't causing us trouble. _She_ is the one causing the trouble, the pathetic, revolting, _fuc_ —"

Madam Pince's eyes widened.

Bethany was banned from the library for a week.

* * *

Harry finally told Ron and Hermione about what was really going on with Umbridge that night— well, rather, Ron saw the marks the marks on his hand just like she had before Harry had the chance to tell him and they had informed Hermione together. All three of them continued outraged on his behalf and brainstormed ways to ensure Umbridge was fired, but in the end it seemed futile. The Ministry and media had branded Harry a liar and therefore had proved themselves untrustworthy.

The next morning Bethany was in a sullen mood as she sat next to Draco in Ancient Runes. She had been up half the night trying to come up with solutions to a problem that did not wish to be solved and distraught by the fact Harry had to continue seeing that miserable excuse of a woman.

"Morning," said Draco beside her.

"Huh? Oh, good morning."

He frowned. "What's with you?"

"Nothing," she lied. She doubted Draco would be able to help her in this situation— in fact, she suspected he wouldn't want to help. It wasn't as if he harbored any good will for Harry. "I take it you survived prefect duties with Pansy?"

He nodded, opening his mouth before quickly shutting it. Well, that was strange... Draco had hardly shied away from telling her things before. He was more of a loose cannon when it came to verbally expressing himself. She wondered if this was some indication of maturation. "Is Goldstein being any better?"

"Actually, he is," Bethany replied. "Terry had a talk with him, and now he's being a lot nicer."

"Terry Boot?"

"Yeah," said Bethany.

"Isn't he Nott's cousin?" Draco asked.

"He is. He's one of my friends now," she stated.

Draco said nothing, but seemed to approve nonetheless. The lesson began short thereafter and soon Bethany was scribbling down notes as fast as she possibly could. Draco, however, leaned back in his seat, decidedly bored and regretting ever signing up for the course.

Therefore, it came as a surprise to Bethany when she felt Draco's foot nudging her ankle. She lifted her head, frowning at him. He payed her no mind, sliding a slip of parchment across the table.

_**I have something I need to ask you** _

Bethany rolled her eyes. Did he really need to do this in the middle of class?

_What is it, then?_

_**Pansy wants to be friends with me again** _

Bethany frowned. Why was he telling her this, now, in the middle of a lesson? Couldn't he have waited until class was over? Irritated, she scratched out her response.

_Okay?_

_**I told her I would talk to you and Father about it** _

He wanted to be friends with her again? Her own worst enemy? Bethany glanced over to give him an incredulous look, only to see that he was leaned back in his chair, knee bouncing as he tapped his foot. He caught her and eyed their parchment.

Truthfully, she wanted to say no. She despised Pansy with nearly every fiber of her being. But she knew that Draco had been friends with her ever since they were children...

_That's up to you. I can't tell you who to be friends with,_ she finally wrote, sliding the parchment over.

_**Okay, thanks** _

* * *

"You want to do _what_?"

Ron was gaping at Bethany with a look that clearly read " _Are you mad?"_ Hermione and Harry were equally dumbfounded. Their sudden indigence contrasted greatly with the scene of serenity before them. Given Bethany's ban from the library, they were holding their weekly study session outside by the lake. It was a rare sunny day and they weren't the only students to take advantage of it. A group of seventh year Hufflepuffs was gathered some thirty feet away.

"Think about it!" Bethany said, gesticulating wildly without much thought. "You have a question that needs to be answered, and I can procure it for you. It's that easy." She shrugged her shoulders as if to illustrate her point.

"But it's dangerous!" Ron insisted, glancing over to Harry and Hermione. The latter was sitting cross legged by Bethany, whereas Harry was leaned against the same oak tree Ron was, silent and deep in thought. "You can't— I mean— Tell her, Hermione!"

"Ron's right, Bethany," said Hermione, missing the smug, satisfied smile that appeared on his face after she said it. "We don't want you doing anything risky."

"How is it risky?" She asked. "I'm just sending a letter!"

"Yeah— a letter to _You-Know-Who!_ " Ron exclaimed, which earned him shushes from Bethany and Hermione. "Sorry," he said, quieter, when it was clear the Hufflepuffs hadn't overheard. "But, really, Beth... it's not safe."

"It wouldn't be safe for you," Bethany agreed, "but I'm not in any danger. Besides... he'll think it's weird if I don't send him letters... right?" She didn't have much experience in writing letters to parents to know if he would be concerned or not. Honestly, it could go either way with him. "And it's not like I _want_ to tell him about what I'm up to... so really, you'd be doing me a favor by letting me ask him."

Ron opened his mouth to speak, but Harry beat him to it. "But do you really think he would tell you if Umbridge was working for him? Or if he was Imperiusing her?"

And there was the crux of the matter. Harry's offhand remark that he suspected Umbridge was under some dark influence or being controlled by one had sparked this entire debate. Bethany thought the solution was a simple one, but Ron and Hermione evidently disagreed.

But Harry's question stumped her. Could she receive a straightforward answer from her father? Bethany shrugged weakly. "I honestly don't know if he trusts me or not. Still... it can't hurt to ask, right?"

"But why bother risking it?" Ron ran a hand through his hair. Bethany doubted she had ever seen him this distressed. "I mean, we could just ask Dumbledore—"

"We aren't going to Dumbledore about this," Harry interrupted, a rosy hue in his cheeks. "We've been over this before— there's no point getting him involved."

"So it's decided, then. I'll send him a letter, and I'll ask him." Bethany paused, glancing at each of her friends. Hermione seemed to be the personification of anxiety at the thought whilst Ron clearly wracking his mind for another solution. Harry, oddly enough, was the one who seemed least opposed... but then again, it was hard to tell when he looked as if he hadn't slept in a week. "I'll let you all read the letter," she assured them, "and I'm not going to give anything away, either—"

"Of course you're not!" Hermione burst out. "We— that's not what we're worried about! We only want to make sure you're safe!"

"Right!" Ron piped up.

"Honestly," said Bethany, holding back a sigh, "do you know how many times I've had to eat dinner with this man? I'll be fine."

* * *

But clearly, her idea was better in theory.

_Dear Fath_

She crumpled the parchment into a ball.

_Dear Dad,_

_How are y_

She chucked this parchment into the trash bin.

_Dear Dad,_

_I've got a question for_

Bethany ripped the parchment into tiny pieces.

_Dear Dad,_

_Are you controlling Umbridge with the Imperius curse? Please answer honestly and swiftly. Thanks._

— _Bethany_

She sighed. If only she could just send _this_ letter. But no— this was a matter that had to be handled delicately. Bethany wadded up the parchment and resolved to try again tomorrow.

* * *

"Tea?" Professor Snape asked, offering a cup to Bethany from across the desk. She nodded, accepting the warm beverage. The dungeons, no matter the weather, always had a chill in the air.

"Are we resuming Occlumency lessons, Professor?" Bethany asked, wondering why she had been summoned to his office. "Because like I said, I haven't let any slip—"

"I believe you," said Professor Snape, pouring his own cup of tea. "As a matter of fact, I was hoping to speak to you about the events over the summer." Bethany tried to ignore the churning in her stomach as he placed the teapot down, expression solemn. "I hope that you know can confide in me, Bethany. I understand your father perhaps better than anyone else in this castle and I will help you in any way I can."

Bethany nodded, comforted by his words. "Thank you, sir. That means a lot." There was a lump in her throat now that hadn't been there before.

Professor Snape gave what Bethany assumes was supposed to be a reassuring look before taking a sip of his tea. She realized then that he was waiting for her to speak. She cleared her throat before saying, "He's not what I thought he would be like, Professor."

"Oh?"

"He's—" Bethany couldn't think of the words. "I— it was so weird! Like he didn't talk to me at all about his views, he just wanted to tell me to keep up my grades and to stay away from boys!" The latter was still something that irritated her.

Professor Snape nodded. "I know you are well aware of what your father's childhood was like, given that you lived it yourself. Having had no father figure in his own life, it's likely he attempting to replicate the attitudes of figures from popular media."

Bethany agreed, but said, "I don't understand why he bothers, though! It's not like I don't know who he is or the things he has done!"

Professor Snape opened his mouth, as if to say something, before stopping himself. After a brief pause, he said, "It is certainly enigmatic, but I do believe when it comes to you, he is willing to put that part of his life aside." Bethany gave him a curious look. "He may not be like other men, but he does harbor a great deal of affection towards you."

Bethany had no idea how to process that. Of course it was nice to know that he cared about her but at the end of the day he was still a raging psychopath. And yet... there had been that conversation about her mother. She told Professor Snape so.

"He did?"

"Yeah. He said I was like her." Bethany averted her gaze away, feeling somewhat embarrassed.

"It's very rare for him to speak of her."

"He was much nicer about it this time," said Bethany. "Well, by the end of it. He said their relationship ended badly." She glanced up at Professor Snape. "Did— do you know what happened? I kind of didn't want to ask."

There was a pained look of the professor's face before he said, "I confess that I know few details. As I'm sure you have guessed already, their relationship was not only unconventional but also unhealthy. It was volatile dynamic." Professor Snape paused, took in a deep breath, and continued on. "All I know is that one evening the Dark Lord brought you to Malfoy Manor and told Lucius and Narcissa that Delilah was missing. He instructed all of his followers to keep an eye out for her— it was his belief that she had either left to rejoin her family or seek refuge with his followers— particularly the Lestranges."

Bethany frowned. "Why them?"

"Your mother dated Rabastan when she was at Hogwarts," Professor Snape reminded her. "That was a relatively turbulent relationship as well, I confess. But even though your mother moved on, Rabastan never truly did. In fact, I know that his attachment for your mother was something that made the Dark Lord quite jealous."

"Oh." Bethany felt a pang of sadness for the woman she had never known. It seemed as if she had lead an unlucky life— with an especially unlucky love life. Her mother seemed to have attracted dangerous, violent men like a magnet.

"And unfortunately," Professor Snape said, "it was in the woodlands at the Lestrange's Estate where your mother's body was discovered."

That sentiment sobered Bethany up all the more. "What?"

Professor Snape looked conflicted, uncertain of what to say. Finally he stated, "It was almost a month before her remains were discovered in the woods at the Lestrange Estate. Nobody knows how she got there— especially not the Lestranges. Rabastan was devastated."

It felt as if he had dropped a pile of bricks on top of her. It was something more gruesome than she had expected. Maybe she shouldn't have been so surprised, but... "Oh," was all she could manage.

"Bethany, are you alright?" Professor Snape rose to his feet, the feet of his chair scraping against the stone floor. "You look unwell."

"I'm fine," she lied. "I just— I think maybe I need to lay down or something." She was feeling strangely lightheaded at the moment but she managed to pull herself to her feet, hands gripping the back of her chair. She focused her eyes on the rows and rows of jars, all full of varying Potions ingredients.

"Of course. You ought to head back to the Ravenclaw tower. Do you need my assistance?" Bethany shook her head in response, which was a mistake. She felt even more dizzy than before. "I apologize," Professor Snape said. Bethany could not see his face from where she was standing but he sounded profoundly sorry. "I'm sure my words have brought you nothing but pain and confusion. That was not my intent."

"I know," said Bethany, who was feeling only the slightest bit more herself. "Good night, Professor. I'll see you in class Monday."

And with that, she staggered out of the dungeons, mind swimming with a million questions.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading!


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